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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27616202">Cross my heart and hope to die (stick a needle in my eye)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beweme/pseuds/Beweme'>Beweme</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Don't Starve (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive Relationships, Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Feels, Bad Decisions, Blood and Violence, Broken Promises, Developing Relationship, Domestic Violence, Dubious Morality, Emotional Manipulation, Enemies to Lovers, Established Relationship, Forced Cohabitation, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Imprisonment, Jealousy, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Maxwell suffers, Moral corruption, NSFW, Non-Consensual Touching, Obsessive Behavior, Partial Mind Control, Past Child Abuse, Questionably Happy Ending, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Mutilation, Self-Worth Issues, Shadow King Wilson (Don't Starve), Suicide Attempt, Threats of Violence, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, charlie there for like a second, everyone suffers in this fic, headcanons galore, regret and hurt, wilson cant handle the throne and does bad, wilson suffers too</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:54:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>76,455</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27616202</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beweme/pseuds/Beweme</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson attempts to free his lover from the throne, and naturally has to take his place. The consequences turn out to be drastic when Wilson's mind is taken over by the shadows, and Maxwell finds himself in yet another prison when it comes clear that if there is one thing that has stayed the same, is Wilson's endless love for the former King. Whether he likes it or not.</p><p>The story follows two main timelines: In the beginning of every chapter, the timeline where Wilson is survivor and develops his relationship with Maxwell through the time that passes by, and the main story after Wilson has become the King.</p><p>(Heed the tags, if you're uncomfortable with anything mentioned then don't read this fic, go away and be safe, shoo, shoo.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Welcome home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wanted to try something different from what I usually write and just go with the flow, and decided that if I'm going to write it, then I don't want to shy away or sugarcoat the torture or violence, although it's obviously in the limits that I myself can write. This fic kinda took the control from my hands and just went it's own ways too, not sure if it's quite what I wanted, but god fuck it, I wrote it so I will post it too.</p><p>As usual, comments and criticism are welcome! And I try to add warnings if they are needed, but just take this whole fic as a warning, just in case ok? Ok.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The Constant was a horrible place. Wilson had learned that the hard way, getting injured by almost anything that moved and sometimes by the things that didn't move or had no business moving around like, for example, a giant fucking trees, and after a hundred death too many he had learned his lesson to assume that everything was hostile until proven otherwise.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>But no matter how many terrible things lurked in the darkness, how many horrifying surprises he came to walk across, how many twisted creatures tried to kill him, there was only one thing in this world that truly send shivers through his spine and made his insides twitch, made his neck burn and anger swell in his stomach.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Say pal, funny meeting you here."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It most certainly was not funny, and Wilson was not his pal. The short man was walking back to his small campsite, but came to an immediate stop when he heard the most irritating, horrible voice possible and his eyes met with the man standing in his camp, uninvited and unwelcome. He only glared at the nightmare King, who in turn rose his eyebrow in bored, nonchalant fashion.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Catcoon got your tongue?" the man asked, smirking, and Wilson's glare got even more hateful if that was even possible.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"What are you doing in my camp?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Nothing. Do I look like I'm doing something? How rude to assume such a thing." the man faked an offended frown and placed his hand on his chest as if he was truly hurt by Wilson's words.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson was not amused in the slightest "I'm serious. Why are you here?" the anger was often the knee jerk reaction, but it was very equally accompanied by the fear, and this case wasn't an exception. The short man watched in growing discomfort as Maxwell started walking towards him and stopped right in front of him, waving something in his hand. It was hard to see what it was until the King was close enough, and even then it made no sense at all. Wilson's fear and hate got a feeling of confusion to keep them company as he stared at the object. It was a bone, with a huge red lump on the other end, and it seemed to have a pair of small horns.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"What the hell is that supposed to be then?" Wilson asked, not even really wanting to hear the answer to his question. The answer would always be something horrible, he knew it. Maxwell just laughed and grabbed his wrist without permission, and before Wilson had a time to yell at the man to not to fucking touch him, the King had already slapped the thing on his grip.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I'm getting really tired of your incompetence here, pal. Thought you'd need some help."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Without another word the man disappeared in a poof of a smoke again, leaving Wilson behind, coughing, standing there confused and annoyed. After he had pulled himself together again he glanced at the bone thing in his hand. It couldn't be any good, he was sure about it. For all he knew, it was probably cursed, probably something terrible, something -</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The lump opened up and glanced back at him. Wilson screamed at the eyeball staring at him, but stopped when there was a sudden, unfamiliar sound approaching. Great, he knew this thing was bad news. The sound approached fast, sounded almost like something bouncing, and Wilson tugged the thing away and took his spear and pointed it at the... the monster?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He stared at the orange pumpkin-like thing on the ground, which in turn just stood there and started panting like a dog, a large pink tongue lolling out of it's mouth. For a while Wilson was blinking in mute confusion, and the furry pumpkin thing was panting at him innocently.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Then it sat down in front of him like they were old friends and it had always been living there with him. Wilson could do nothing but blink, baffled.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>...What the hell, Maxwell?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The darkness was indefinite, pitch black and cold. There was nothing. Nothing to see, nothing to touch, nothing to hear. Well, that wasn't <em>completely</em> true... Maxwell could feel the floor, too smooth and perfect to be natural, under his shoes, and hear the shadows in the back of his mind, but then again, he could always hear them there. They were always present like a background noise he had grown numb to, so they didn't really count. Otherwise it was dead silence in here.</p>
<p>The magician tried to find the way out of this darkness. He knew he had lost his privileges to the power over the Constant and all the things in it when he was freed from the throne, but it still upset him to know how little he had left of it. Gritting his teeth, lost in thoughts, he stood still and let his eyes wander in the void, as if that helped anything at all.</p>
<p>He wasn't sure how long he had been there, how long he had seen nothing at all, how long he had been alone, but he was slightly sick of it already. He was hungry and felt weak, so he could quess it had been at least a few days. He had walked who knows how long and how far in this silent, empty space, and he had found nothing, no walls, no fences, no end. Nothing. It was frustrating. It was already driving him nuts.</p>
<p>The man rubbed his hand briefly on his face and grunted, then slipped his finger inside his jacket and pulled out the only thing he still had, the only comfort he had left in this world. Codex was warm in his hands, as if the book itself was alive, as if it sensed it was needed again, always ready for him to use. Always ready to use him, Maxwell knew that everytime he used it he was just letting the shadows in. It was like a trade, they gave him a little bit, he gave them a little more. But in all fairness, it could've been worse.</p>
<p>The pesky thing about the complete darkness was that when there was only the dark, only the empty void and naked nothingness, the shadows were practically just as impossible to use as the black cat in the dark room. But he still had Codex and he still had nightmare fuel left, always a little bit of that nasty stuff hidden inside his suit, in some pocket, somewhere, because he knew he needed to have something close, just in case.</p>
<p>Just in case of situations like this, when he had been kidnapped away,  pulled somewhere where he had no idea where he was, where anything was, and he had nothing to protect himself with and no idea how to get out. If he wasn't already outside, it was hard to tell. But he made a guess that he wasn't, since there was no wind, no ground, rocks or grass, sticks... There was no rain, no change in the air, nothing. Nothing at all.</p>
<p>Maxwell concentrated and with a swift movement of his wrist he summoned a shadow clone. He <em>thought</em> he summoned one, at least. He could feel something, but as already stated, he couldn't see a fucking thing here. The man furrowed his brows as he carefully reached his hand forward, feeling the air, searching, until he found the spot where the air felt thinner and colder. <em>Alive</em>. He recognized himself, be it the shadow or the real thing.</p>
<p>"Go scout out this place. Keep the sword ready." He commanded and sat down to wait as the shadow did as it was told.</p>
<p>He waited.</p>
<p>He waited for a long time, so long he almost fell asleep.</p>
<p>...Until there was a oddly familiar yet strange, amused chuckle somewhere around him.</p>
<p>Maxwell opened his eyes, even though it made literally no difference at all - he wouldn't have been able to see anything anyway. But it was a reaction one couldn't help when they sensed that someone was approaching, the reaction to the potential threat, the need to be ready, to be prepared for what was coming.</p>
<p>Even though Maxwell suspected that he already knew what was coming, too.</p>
<p>The man lifted himself into a sitting position from the floor he had been laying on and waited some more. There was little else he could've done. The shadows in the darkness snickered and hissed, amused, excited. Curious. <em>They</em> liked it when there was something new happening, liked it when things changed up in the empty, still place that loomed large and unmoving like the vacuum of the outer space.</p>
<p>Although Maxwell couldn't see, he could sense the atmosphere changing. It got less empty, less lonely, and he couldn't hear but he could<em> feel</em> the movement in the room, as thin and light as the air itself.</p>
<p>Then the voice spoke, very close to him now, and Maxwell felt both cold and warm for recognizing the person it belonged to.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry that I took so long to come back, pet. It has been, what, a few days? I'm sorry, there were certain incidents that required my immediate attention... But I assure you, I hurried to you as fast as I could." the very familiar voice spoke in the dark. There were no footsteps, no signal of the approaching man, but it didn't surprise Maxwell. He himself had always preferred moving as silent and subtle as the shadow, and well, Wilson was already rather small in posture, it's not like his footsteps would've made much noise anyway.</p>
<p>Maxwell felt the slender fingers landing on his cheeks as the scientist finally stopped in front of him and knelt down to his level to push his nose on Maxwell's, snuggling it against him tenderly "Aww, no greetings? Did you get <em>that</em> upset when I left you all alone here?"</p>
<p>"Where am I?" Maxwell just snapped, annoyed and confused "Why am I here? Why did you take me here, Higgsbury?"</p>
<p>The claws sunk into his skin and made the magician flinch and he hissed from the pain when Wilson's shadowy talons pressed harshly into his face.</p>
<p>"Now, here's the thing... I remember telling you before that I <em>don't like it</em> when you call me that, when you should call me by my actual name. We are far past so distancing and strange manners like calling each other by last names, aren't we?" the voice, now much darker, now full of threat, hissed to him. Then the claws pulled away, and his cheeks were caressed softly again "...Okay, pet? Do that for me." the man kissed the tip of his nose before stepping away, leaving Maxwell pressing his aching cheek, cringing from the pain.</p>
<p>"... At <em>least</em> tell me where have you taken me. And why, for that matter." Maxwell muttered and got up, trying to see Wilson in the darkness, trying to guess where the man had went. He couldn't remember how it happened in it's entirety, but he could very well remember how Wilson had taken him from his small lonely camp, the many shadows that surrounded him, feeling of lightness when he was swallowed by them, and Wilson, smirking, looking <em>very</em> different from before.</p>
<p>The laughter of said man was all around him, but there was no echo in the place, which felt eery considering how large the place felt like. Wilson's hands appeared on the taller man's shoulders from behind him, and the man leaned his lips to his ear.</p>
<p>"You're safe now. I made you a safe place where nothing can hurt you, where nothing can take you away from me." Wilson hummed to his ear and rubbed his shoulders in slow movements. Maxwell would've liked it if he wasn't so distracted by what the man said.</p>
<p>"What the- Where, why? What safe place?!" Maxwell was starting to get frustrated, a little bit anxious, too. He knew Wilson, but after the man had freed him, he had obviously taken his place on the throne. And the throne changed people, did things to them to strip away all the humanity that was left in them. There was no telling if this Wilson was his Wilson any longer.</p>
<p>"Sh shh, don't bother you head with questions like that, I'm gonna take care of you from now on. There is no need for you to worry about anything anymore, pet."</p>
<p>Maxwell furrowed his brows and looked down, his hand hovering over Codex Umbra in it's usual place inside his jacket. At least it didn't seem like Wilson wanted to harm him, which was good in it's own way, but Maxwell would've preferred not to be forced to stay in yet another dark, lonely place after he had<em> finally</em> tasted the freedom after the years he had spent being tied down to the throne.</p>
<p>Wilson's hands had moved to his chest and the man rested his chin on his shoulder, and at that point Maxwell realized that Wilson was way too tall compared to him. Maxwell moved his other hand and quickly swirled it between him and Wilson. It felt like the man was hovering in the air, but Maxwell knew he couldn't, even the throne could not gift you with ability to levitate. Wilson must've used shadow magic to lift himself. He was able to control them after all, ever since he had became the King.</p>
<p>"I'm so happy you didn't actually die when I freed you... It really scared me." The new King whispered against the older man's neck, a voice carrying a shaking edge, and Maxwell felt the arms tightening around him "I don't know what I would do if I had lost you after I struggled so much to free you so we could be together..."</p>
<p>The older man realized the suppressed tears in Wilson's voice, and he rose his hand to sweep the other man's cheek softly. It was too cold, too lifeless. Wilson had always been so warm, hot even.</p>
<p>"I didn't want you to pay this price because of me." Maxwell comforted his lover in a low, calm voice, despite his discomfort for the situation he had found himself in "Please Wilson, take me back to Constant... I can work something out to free you, too."</p>
<p>The answer he got was unnervingly giddy laughter as Wilson stroked his chest with his hands caringly "Oh, but then I can't protect you anymore. I can do so many things now, I<em> know</em> so many things now, <em>They</em> told me things, showed me things... I have never been better than I am now! And I can make sure you can stay with me forever, we can be happy, we can be together here where nothing will ever break us apart."</p>
<p>Wilson's voice was dreamy, cloudy, like he was just barely awake. Maxwell had to wonder if the man even realized what he was saying, if he only acted on some deep-rooted fear of being alone or if this was a calculated, planned action.</p>
<p>"Oh, and you will not be needing this anymore." Wilson hummed as his hand suddenly burrowed under Maxwell's suit and snatched the only thing hidden inside it away. In a second Maxwell felt his insides growing cold and gasped, trying desperately to catch Wilson's hands, but the King moved beyond his reach and the man fell down on the floor in his knees.</p>
<p>"Give it back!" He insisted in furious voice, anger hiding away his panic and fear. No, he could not lose the Codex, it was the only thing he had left to be more than just a weak old man, the only thing that was really his, the one thing he had left to protect himself with-</p>
<p>
  <em>The clone.</em>
</p>
<p>Maxwell clenched his hands into fists, falling silent. <em>He still had that clone.</em> He still had something, even in this- whatever the hell this place was!</p>
<p>"Don't be upset, soon you won't even remember this trifling old thing." Wilson mused somewhere in the dark, and Maxwell got up, fist shaking with anger.</p>
<p>"Get me out of this place, <em>Now</em>." He demanded, rising his chin up and putting all of his authority in his voice. The silence that fell was terrifyingly still. Maxwell tried not to falter, staring at somewhere in front of him with steely eyes. At times like this it was so easy to remember that he truly had lost most of the control he ever had, lost his authoritative aura and shrunk back to being just another pawn, a mortal person without <em>Their</em> help to make him something more.</p>
<p>Then, suddenly but so very lightly, a finger pressed on his lips and a silent voice breathed so close to his face that the man flinched back.</p>
<p>"Shh, pet. You're safe now. I will take care of you, nothing is gonna take you away. Just let me do this for you." the younger man cooed, letting his finger slip away from Maxwell's lips to be placed with his own. Maxwell stood still, torn between yelling at the man and answering to his kiss with the obvious complacency, but he had no choice since Wilson just pushed their mouths together, cupping the other man's cheeks between his hands before pilling away.</p>
<p>"I promise I will be good to you like you've been good to me. I will protect you, you don't have to do anything else but stay right here with me."</p>
<p>The promise was followed by couple more of softer kisses and a quiet hum when Wilson pulled away, lower, to his original height, and leaned his forehead on Maxwell's chest. Maxwell stood still, until he gave up and slowly and hesitantly wrapped his arms over the smaller man. Wilson let out a whine and snuggled his head closer, clearly pleased with the touch. Maxwell couldn't lie and say he didn't miss this. He had missed this, he had missed Wilson, but this situation didn't please him and he couldn't let the man think that this was fine. He had barely tasted the freedom until he had been snatched away by the shadows and taken here. That just wasn't how he would let things be, not if he could help it.</p>
<p>Maxwell concentrated on his shadow, commanded it inaudibly to not to alarm Wilson's attention. He sensed it moving, somewhere around them. Good.</p>
<p>"Wilson, please... I will ask only one more time. Get me out of this place."</p>
<p>Wilson laughed again, and it dawned on Maxwell that the other man was not taking him seriously at all. Since Wilson wasn't going to, apparently, let him go, Maxwell leaned on the only other option he had left. He just had to force his way out of this place then.</p>
<p>He felt Wilson tensing up and freezing when the darksword slowly but suddenly pressed over his neck when the clone stepped partly between them, and Maxwell breathed out, sorry that he had to do this, but not really regretting his decision.</p>
<p>"I will take my book back now." He explained calmly and started feeling Wilson's clothes with his hand to find his property, and he couldn't help but notice how nice the suit the man was wearing felt like, very much like his own, dapper and neat. But it hardly mattered at the moment.</p>
<p>"Oh, pet..." Wilson suddenly sighed "This just won't do. You don't understand it yet, but this is all for you. It's for your own best. I'm tempted to be offended that you think this friend you have created is going to be able to hurt me, but I will let it slide this time."</p>
<p>Maxwell stopped when the words sunk in.</p>
<p>"...What?"</p>
<p>Wilson just giggled at him.</p>
<p>"Well, I <em>am</em> the King now."</p>
<p>Nothing else needed to be said when Maxwell felt the shadow disappear, left-overs of the fuel dripping down on his arms and the ground. Wilson chuckled "And while I love feeling your hands all over me, I suppose that I should tell you that you won't find The Codex on me, it's gone somewhere where I can keep it away from you."</p>
<p>Maxwell froze, cracking his mouth open in disbelief. He couldn't remember the last time when he didn't have the tome with him. It had always been with him, for a long, long  time now, and he needed it to survive, he needed it to be him. He needed it, it was his.</p>
<p>Wilson's hand pressed to cup his cheek softly.</p>
<p>"I would be angry over that little stunt, but since I love you so much, I won't punish you. But I must still take precautions with you, it seems."</p>
<p>Maxwell didn't have time to ask what he meant, didn't have time to react before he felt something wrapping over his wrist, something smooth and silky and hurtful and his eyes widened, breathing paused, he knew this feeling, he had felt this feeling on his skin before, no no no no no-</p>
<p>Maxwell vaguely registered his legs giving out under him and then himself falling down, pressing hands on his face in desperation, as if it did anything, not even realizing he should be fighting the restrains on his wrists when the panic of the all too familiar feeling of being tied to the throne took him. He just heaved in the breaths while the thought of not again <em>not again</em>, please no <em>not this again</em> was yelling in his head, and he bit his lip ( a bad decision with his teeth), thrust his eyes close as if it would make him wake up, make him realize that he was not imprisoned somewhere again, not tied up again, not again, <em>not again</em>.</p>
<p>Wilson never removed his hand from his face, falling down with him, gently stroking his thumb on his skin in attempt to comfort him.</p>
<p>"There there, it's all good. Now you will stay safe here. You'll learn to appreciate this, I promise." the new King pressed a swift, light kiss on his forehead and pulled his hand away, and then Maxwell was left alone in the darkness.</p>
<p>Again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Pet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Maxwell takes a lot of notes of the many changes Wilson had gone through, and Wilson feels like he isn't receiving enough attention.</p>
<p>WARNINGS: NSFW scene, elements of dubcon.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Wilson admired the work he had done inside his small camp. Just recently he had discovered ways to improve his conditions, since it seemed he had no other choice - yet. The farm stank pretty badly, but now he was able to grow his own food, and despite being still kind of weary of the bees, the amount of honey was worthy of a few occasional stings every now and then.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"My, what a marvelous little nest you have created for yourself, Mr. Higgsbury! It'd be such a pity if something happened to it after all that hard work you put into it."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson didn't even wait for his surprise to fade, because as soon as he heard that voice and recognized who it belonged to, he had already picked up his pickaxe and swung it at the demon, who in turn rose his eyebrow, completely disinterested of the attack.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The dark claws grasped around Wilson's wrist, and the pickaxe never made it to it's target. Maxwell eyed it, as if contemplating if breaking Wilson's arm would be worth his time. The scientist yanked his hand to free himself, but to no avail - Maxwell was too strong. How could he be so strong? That was unnatural and more so, unfair!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Let me go!"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Don't think so, Higgsbury. Here I was, coming to compliment you for making such a good progress, and you throw this pathetic attempt of an attack at me? Really, Higgsbury. Manners." Maxwell shook his head and clicked his tongue, looking at the shorter man like a teacher looks at his poorly performing student. Wilson just kept scowling, yanking his arm to get away from that terrible man who had tricked him into this nightmare world.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"What do you want, Maxwell?" he snarled, and the other man looked genuinely surprised.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Do I always have to want something from you?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You haven't visited me once without some sort of an excuse to torture me! Last time you left only to summon me a tiny pumpkin thing, and then the pack of dogs on my camp when you disappeared!"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Hmm, perhaps if I'm not wanted here, you would prefer if I take my leave again, then? Let's see... you liked the firehouds the best, didn't you?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"No!" Wilson's anger quickly faded into horror and the young man grasped the other man's hand when it was about to finally leave his wrist. The hounds were awful enough on their own, but their fiery counterparts... Wilson shuddered. He had lost so many of his things to those flames of terror already. Maxwell smirked at him, which made Wilson bite his lip and look away in shame.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Just tell me what you want from me." he muttered and let go, and for his surprise and relief Maxwell let go if him, too. The man adjusted the scuffs of his sleeves, and started to walk around Wilson's campsite.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I was merely curious to see how you've been doing here, and I was not disappointed." the nightmare King stopped to sweep invisible dust away from Wilson's science machine, and the younger man automatically wanted to shout at him to keep his hands out of his stuff, but held his tongue.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You really have put a lot of effort in this camp of yours, haven't you? Been busy working, not paying attention to your surroundings as much as you should have been..." Maxwell peeked over his shoulder, giving Wilson a long, meaningful look. The scientist stared at him for a while, a cold feeling starting to claim his insides when the wheels turned in his head. Then he gasped and tensed up.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"The winter" he whispered under his breath. How could he be so stupid? Had he gotten so carried away with the new inventions that he had completely forgotten to keep an eye out on the weather? It had become colder lately, the nights were getting longer... Oh no he had completely tossed all the other preparations aside in order to built more things for his camp!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The young man dashed to check his chests. There had to be something left from the last winter, a winterhat, a breezy vest, anything, even some materials oh please god let there be some beefalo wool left! All he could find was a pair of used earmuffs, and by the looks of it, they wouldn't last longer than a day, if even that. Wilson stared at it with empty expression.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell chuckled behind him "This world doesn't allow many mistakes, pal. Sometimes you gotta learn the hard way."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson felt the tears itching in his eyes. Had Maxwell really come all the way here just to rub his idiocy in his face? That was low, even for him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I, however, have a little proposition for you. If you are interested, that is." the man continued, and without even looking Wilson could tell he was grinning. God he hated that grin.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"What do you want?" he asked the third time that day, hanging his head, drifting between sadness for his own situation and anger that Maxwell was here to take advantage of it. The demonic man just laughed.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Straight to the point, huh? Here's my offer: I can give you a set of wintergear, let's say, a puffy vest and one unused thermal stone. Does that sound fair?" the man said, and the younger one stood up and turned to look at him, glaring.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"And what do you want in exchange? Surely all that cannot come for free from someone as generous and nice as you?" he smirked with the annoyed face, trying to keep his anger under control. Maxwell returned his smirk, much more dangerous one than the scientist's own, and walked closer. Wilson forced his legs to stay were they were.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I just want you to tell me something about yourself."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson narrowed his eyes, trying to connect the dots in his mind, find out were that loophole was, what was the catch...</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"...What 'something'?" he cautiously asked, and grimaced at the gloved hand that cupped his cheek.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You tell me, pal. As long as it's not something I already know." Maxwell's smirk only grew wider, and for a while Wilson just glared into his dark, deep eyes, until he twitched away from the hand over his face and sighed.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Okay, uh... I, I had a lot of freckles when I was little?" his mind kept telling him that this was dumb, stupid, Maxwell was making fun of him, that it couldn't possibly be this easy, but the desperation to avoid the death was much stronger feeling right at the moment. Maxwell rose his eyebrows, curiously.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Really? You do have some very faint ones on your face, now that you mention it."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Yeah, uh, they usually come out clearly only in summer so- Hey! Don't try to trick me, I already told you one thing about myself! Now it's your turn to keep your part of the deal!" he demanded, feeling the light color of pink rising over his cheeks.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell smirked and turned to walk away. Wilson stared at him with bewildered eyes.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Y-you have to keep your part of the deal, Maxwell!" he continued, in much less sure tone. The King stopped and turned around, grinning so wide that his sharp teeth were clearly in sight.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I don't remember us making any deal, pal, you never accepted my offer. You should really pay more attention to details." he said, the smug grin never leaving his face. Wilson's eyes widened and he lowered his head, his heart sinking. Why did Maxwell torment him like this? What had he ever done to deserve any of this, why couldn't he have even a smallest, shortest break in here? This was it, he had no time to prepare for the winter, he had no chance to survive it with how little had in hand...</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Jeez... you don't need to cry, Higgsbury. I was just joking." the man's voice reached his ears and Wilson realized, for his shame, that his eyes had actually started to wet from the misery he started to dwell in. But who could blame him? Freezing to death was one of the slowest, most agonizing deaths he had ever had the displeasure of experiencing.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"...You will find the winter gear in your chest."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell sounded weird, almost as if he was sorry he had upset Wilson. The shorter man rose his head up in confusion, but the nightmare King was already gone.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maxwell laid on the floor, curled into himself, staring into nothing. The dark, shadowy shackles over his wrists didn't leave him much of a choice to do otherwise. Although they allowed him a room to move, they were still chains like any other ones, he couldn't go anywhere from the place he was held in, and the radius he was allowed to move was fairly large he supposed, but whenever he tried to leave or tried to break free from the restrains, they only tightened their grip, pressing into his skin stronger and stopped his movement almost completely. He had fought them, he had pulled and yanked and bit and scratched, but the shadows didn't give in, didn't break. Of course he already knew they wouldn't break, but there was no chance in hell he wouldn't at least try!</p>
<p>Wilson really didn't seem to want him to leave. It was adorable, in a way, that the man would go to lengths this drastic only to keep him safe and close to himself, but it was dehumanizing and just displeasurable to be kept under control like this, not even mentioning his unableness to see anything and the fact that he was completely isolated.</p>
<p>The shadows over his wrists burned, and although he would've given anything to get them off, he already knew it was useless. Wilson wanted them there, so there they stayed. It made something very cold and dark pulse inside the magician's chest. He wasn't Wilson's property for crying out loud, this wasn't fair.</p>
<p>... But then again, everything in Constant was the property of the King, everything else but <em>Them</em>, and Wilson surely seemed to think so as well. Maxwell started to drum his fingers on the ground, floor, whatever. He never took Wilson's freedom away like this. But then again, He never had to go through the same things Wilson had, so perhaps their starting points couldn't be compared. And it's not like he wouldn't deserve this, either way.</p>
<p>Things had indeed changed after Maxwell was dethroned. <em>They</em> loved it, <em>They</em> were infinitely entertained by humans, and the many ways they could suffer in <em>Their</em> world. In the end, Constant was always under <em>Their</em> control, but <em>They</em> just loved to see what a creature as pathetic and insignificant as human could do with it. And when Wilson replaced Maxwell on the throne, <em>They</em> obviously offered him everything that he asked for, offered him knowledge beyond understanding, the ways to use the said knowledge, to have the powers that were not meant for human brain to comprehend and control. How could Wilson resist that? Maxwell sure couldn't.</p>
<p>He couldn't tell how long he had already been here, but ever since he had been robbed of his book and his powers to use the shadows, he had been visited by the scientist a few times, and  based on what Wilson told him about what he did on the surface, it seemed that at least a week had passed by. <em>At least.</em></p>
<p>There had been obvious changes in the man, things that weren't there before, things that weren't there any longer. <em>They</em> had apparently found some new interesting way of toying with the man, made a nice little nest inside him, infecting his mind and body very much like they did to Maxwell as well. But the way <em>They</em> had used him was very different from the way <em>They</em> used Wilson. <em>They</em> seemed to be much more interested in the young man, almost too interested. The man seemed really different now, almost like he wasn't himself at all, really, <em>really</em> different from before.</p>
<p>Well, at least for the time being Wilson was being gentle with him. He was treating Maxwell kindly in his own way, but only on the surface. It was so sadly evident how Wilson's own logic and reason, which he used to rely on more than anything, were now pushed aside, hidden behind the closed doors and replaced by something much more favorable for the King, for <em>Them</em>. Maxwell knew <em>They</em> preferred their King without something so troublesome as moral compass or righteous values. They were in the way. Wilson wasn't an exception, and there wasn't much that could be done about it.</p>
<p>"Oh pet~ I'm back again! I hope you didn't get too lonely here, all alone without me" a sudden, cheery greeting flied through the area, Wilson's velvet voice full of glee and excitement. Speak of the devil, it seems.</p>
<p>Maxwell didn't answer. He was not alone here, you could never be truly alone when there were countless shadows in the darkness, hovering in the background, always watching, always whispering, always present. He also didn't answer because despite the fact that he was able to control his temper, he was still rather furious with the scientist for all of this.</p>
<p>"Forgive me, pet, I am here now. You know I would never leave you forever" Wilson spoke softly in his silky voice that wasn't quite his own anymore. It was tainted by <em>Them</em>, too. His own voice laid somewhere underneath, slightly emerging under the oily, dark surface of <em>Their</em> influence, but it would never be the way it used to be. It was much too smooth and flowing unnaturally softly "I had quite the day. I had almost forgotten how utterly <em>boring</em> it is when nothing happens... When things are going too fine and too easy."</p>
<p>Maxwell detected irritation, or perhaps bitterness, in Wilson's voice when the man sighed. He could relate to that well, it wasn't in human nature to sit still for all the eternity in the darkness, listening to the never-ending loop of the music with nothing to do, nothing to distract you. And just knowing that there was something happening outside, something you could actually <em>do</em>, something to tear you away from the eternal boredom was almost like a constant itch you knew you shouldn't scratch, but eventually it would all become way too much to ignore. When he had sat on the throne, he had done the same thing that Wilson did, the same thing he suspected that everyone else would do as well - play with the survivors, trick new people in the Constant, entertain both himself and <em>Them</em> so he wouldn't go insane from the sheer emptiness that was the life of him who sat on the nightmare throne.</p>
<p>"Do tell." he finally gave in, sighing in mild irritation. He couldn't see, but he knew Wilson was smirking. That too, was something that the scientist couldn't do the same way he used to. Wilson's dorky, idiotic grin was something that Maxwell had adored when he watched the man from afar. This grin, smirk, this abomination that pretended to be a smile, was crooked and inhuman, and it wasn't Wilson's own.</p>
<p>There was no Wilson Higgsbury anymore. Just like there had been no William Carter after he foolishly let the shadows into his life. Poor unsuspecting fools, both of them.</p>
<p>Wilson hummed as he moved closer, and Maxwell felt the shadows lift him up from the floor and carry him over to Wilson, sat him on the throne - no, <em>not the throne</em>, his sudden panic didn't have time to settle in when he remembered that he couldn't sit on it anymore (and he thanked all the gods he could think of for that). The throne was meant just for the King. This one was a replica, although a good one, made from the shadows that Wilson manipulated. And the magician was placed to sit on it, and the new King sat on his lap and pressed close, begun to tell him how he had played with the pawns today (Woodie and Willow, apparently).</p>
<p>Maxwell didn't really listen, but he couldn't shut Wilson's voice out of his head. He closed his eyes and tried to grasp hard into every fast, fleeting moment Wilson's voice would sound even a smallest, littlest bit like it used to be. He cherished those moments and pretended that Wilson was still who he had been, a gentleman, distributing his life to his beloved science. Getting excited over Chester, getting antsy in the dark, getting curious over every new thing he happened to come by.</p>
<p>How he missed that Wilson. That Wilson had been extraordinary, someone Maxwell had found himself growing more and more fond of every time their paths crossed, and he had surprised himself with the feelings he didn't know he was able to have any longer. Something in Wilson had awoken a small spark inside his cold, petrified stone-heart that he had forgotten ever even existed, and now... Now he regretted that he had pulled Wilson into this game at all, regretted that he had ultimately destroyed everything that had made that man so beautiful and unique to him. His Wilson was gone now, and all Maxwell could do was to desperately try to grasp a hold of the small remnants that had survived the treatment the throne could make one go through.</p>
<p>"Pet, I'm getting the feeling that you aren't paying attention to me." came the cold, irked voice, and Maxwell suddenly felt sharp claws on his face. Wilson pushed closer, voice terrifyingly composed - a calm before the storm, Maxwell realized "If you don't want to hear about all the hard work I do while you just sleep your days away here, then I suppose we should do something else instead." the claws were drawing lines on his face, not actually breaking the skin. Yet.</p>
<p>Maxwell let out a quiet sigh.</p>
<p>"Higgsbury-"</p>
<p>The claws tightened in an instant and grabbed his jaw, pulling him so close to Wilson's face that Maxwell could feel his breath over his lips.</p>
<p>"What have I told you!? What have I said about using that name when you address me?!" his voice was a furious snarl, like a wolf giving the last warning before the canines come out. Maxwell swallowed, his voice cracking.</p>
<p>"W...Wilson." The magician sputtered, and felt the King's body relaxing a small bit, the threat of violence not completely disregarded yet.</p>
<p>"There, it wasn't so hard, was it? You know I love to hear you saying my name. You have been doing so well, yet you always slip. That's just... disappointing." the sharp talons loosened and returned to caressing his face gently, but this time the movements were firm and calculated. Maxwell didn't like it, not a single one bit. Wilson had proved himself to be worthy of the throne already, perhaps excactly because of the hardships he had to go through. There was too much pain inside, the cracks engraved in his mind too deep to resist <em>Their</em> voices. Maxwell wasn't particularly excited to find out what he was able to come up with his newly renovated mind.</p>
<p>True, Wilson had changed, but the worst part by far was that he had not changed all the way. It hurt so much more to know that there was still someone in there that Maxwell had loved, someone kind and just, someone a bit dumb and very caring. That was the Wilson Maxwell fell for, but he wasn't sure if that man was inside the shadow King anymore as nothing more than a whispering echo from the past.  All the things that had made Wilson 'Wilson' had twisted along the way, turned into something else, something that wasn't love, wasn't compassion or tenderness.</p>
<p>The man in question had leaned closer to him, placing small kisses on Maxwell's temple, his hands dropping to wander over the taller man's chest. The way his talons danced over his ribs made the man only realize how malnourished he was, since he had no real way of getting himself food here. And although he was not quite at the point of considering of starting to eat his own fingers yet, the awareness of his own hunger growing stronger everyday left him nothing but anxious.</p>
<p>"You must've been so lonely, pet. I feel just awful that I left you all alone for so long... but I will make it all up to you... Would you like that? Would you like if I made you feel better?" Wilson crooned to his ear with a voice so soft it hurt Maxwell's ears "You know I would do anything for you~"</p>
<p>Maxwell knew he would. When they had been growing closer, Wilson hadn't really been in the position to take care of him, being always in trouble himself and more than often getting to be taken care of instead, but boy if the scientist wasn't always in such a need to please him. It was sort of a natural part of his personality, Maxwell guessed, to be useful, the want to help just being who he was.</p>
<p>The man sighed and shut his eyes, opening his mouth, but Wilson's finger landed on his lips softly, the barely audible 'shhh' slithering through his now much too sharp teeth. It didn't matter, Maxwell couldn't have said anything either way, there was just too much he wanted to say. Too much he wished he could tell Wilson. But this Wilson didn't care, didn't hear him, didn't understand the weight of his words.</p>
<p>Wilson left wet spots where his lips moved closer to Maxwell's own, hungrily taking in the taste while his hands started to unbutton his shirt. Maxwell couldn't contain the low groan escaping his mouth when the leather slipped on his bare skin, and the voice didn't go unnoticed by the scientist.</p>
<p>"Ah, I love it when you make noises like that, so thirsty for my touch. Don't worry, I will make up for neglecting you, I will give you my indivisible attention now." Wilson breathed out, pushing his whole body on Maxwell, taking him into a lustful kiss.</p>
<p>Maxwell didn't like, that in a way, he knew that Wilson was right. He wanted Wilson's touch and he wanted Wilson's attention, but it hurt. It always hurt that this was not the Wilson whose love and affection he yearned. And he supposed he should be grateful that at least <em>this</em> part of Wilson hadn't changed. The part that wanted him, the part that wanted to own him, wanted to protect him, wanted to  keep him safe- but for all the wrong reasons. Wilson did it because it was what Wilson wanted. Maxwell had no say in the matter, it was just a very lucky coincidence that the magician happened to want it too. Whatever it was that Wilson was feeling, it wasn't in any respective, equal way partners treated each other in a relationship.</p>
<p>
  <em>Pet.</em>
</p>
<p>It had been, in the past, a gentle nickname, a fun little word that Maxwell liked to throw on Wilson when they were being intimate, when they were having a moment. Wilson had liked to be called a pet. He had liked to be something that Maxwell loved and cared for, something that Maxwell felt possessive and protective over. At least Maxwell thought he had liked it, the scientist had never expressed a distaste for it when Maxwell called him that. Maxwell used it to empathize how much he cared for the scientist, how much he wanted to be gentle to him.</p>
<p>Wilson was using it in a different way. He used it to tell Maxwell that he belonged to Wilson now. That he owned Maxwell, that Maxwell wasn't his own person anymore. Maxwell didn't think Wilson realized the difference any longer. There were fragments of the young man somewhere inside, the memories and feelings too deep to wash completely away, but <em>They</em> had their ways of having fun. Every good thing in Wilson had grown darker, had changed into something that was almost similar, but not quite. There was no love, there was only need. There was no affection, only lust. No care, only greed.</p>
<p>And Maxwell knew, better than anyone, that what the King wanted, <em>They</em> made him believe he could get.</p>
<p>And Wilson genuinely thought that <em>this</em> was what they used to have, that this was sweet and healthy and right. The man kept snuggling himself on Maxwell, claws grasping Maxwell's arms, his mouth moved down to kiss and bit his collarbones, slowly moving lower. Maxwell closed his eyes and let the moan leave his mouth, which seemed to only agitate the new King further. Wilson wiggled his other hand downwards, tips of his claws tickling Maxwell's bared stomach, until they stopped to wander around the band on his trousers.</p>
<p>"I haven't paid enough attention to you, have I?" the younger man leaned to whisper to his ear "My poor, lonely pet... You must've missed me so much. How mean of me to keep you waiting. But don't cry, I'm here. I will always return to you." the scientist spoke with a creamy voice and slipped his hand under the pants, groping the other man's cock in his cold fingers.</p>
<p>Maxwell tried to stop a gasp escaping his mouth, but he couldn't prepare himself for anything that Wilson did, and the element of surprise was enough to make him let out an unpredictable noises. He could only rely on Wilson's voice and touch to know what was going on. Wilson knew it as well, and the younger man purred with satisfied voice when Maxwell let out another breath from the pleasure that was send through him when he was groped and touched by the King.</p>
<p>"I will make you feel so much better..." Wilson cooed with the voice as comforting as it was predatory when he smoothly dropped lower, unbuttoning Maxwell's suitpants and leaving a trail of kissed on his skin as he went down. The King pulled Maxwell's half-hard cock out of his pants and squeezed it gently inside his hand, pushing his head closer to let his tongue lick up and down on it.</p>
<p>Maxwell took in a breath between his teeth and tensed. It felt good, it felt wrong but it felt so good. Wilson hummed in self-satisfaction when the member he was teasing with his tongue twitched.</p>
<p>"There you go, pet, isn't this so much better?" Wilson mused with a low voice, and pressed his lips on the tip of the throbbing member, slowly starting to take it in, going a little bit deeper with every move. Maxwell couldn't keep himself silent, breathing heavily and grasping his hands on the shadows that impersonated the throne. Wilson's mouth was so wet and warm, and he knew exactly what he was doing, he knew how to make Maxwell lose his mind. It was <em>unfair</em>. It was so <em>terribly unfair</em> that he wanted Wilson so, so badly, wanted to feel his body and his touch and hear his voice, but the only thing he had was this dark and deformed shadow of a man that once was.</p>
<p>Wilson in turn felt the waves of pleasure wash through him every time Maxwell made a slightest noise. He let his serpent-like tongue slither around his cock, trapping it inside and careful not to let his sharp teeth hurt him. The long tongue was one small upgrade he gained as a result of the throne, and he was rather proud of it. And judging from the noises his lovely pet made, he agreed with Wilson wholeheartedly.</p>
<p>Suddenly Maxwell tensed up, gasping air and letting a low groan out of his mouth, bucking his hips forward in small motions, and Wilson felt something bitter, thick and slimy burst into his mouth. The King smirked, content that he had satisfied his pet's need, and cleaned the crotch with his tongue, slowly, letting the other man feel out every last bit of his orgasm while he gently licked and swallowed the mess away.</p>
<p>"Are you feeling better now, pet? Are you happy with me?" Wilson asked while he rose back to Maxwell's lap, snuggling the man's face with his nose. Oh, how lovely he smelled, how lovely his rugged breath sounded. He was Wilson own treasure, his own diamond, his own beloved, his own pet. His. Only his.</p>
<p>Maxwell moved his hand to cover himself up again. Even in the dark he didn't want to stay indecent if he didn't have to. He started to button up his shirt, feeling with shaky fingers where the buttons where. He knew Wilson was watching - Wilson could see in the dark, and Maxwell could feel his eyes on his hands as they moved, and didn't even have enough fight in him at the moment to get angry over it.</p>
<p>"Are you hungry, pet? Are you thirsty? Is there anything else I can give you?" the shadow King asked, now helping Maxwell's hands to close his shirt. Maxwell kept silent for a while. But he knew he had to answer, he needed food and water to keep his body going, to keep himself alive. Although, he might've rather died instead if this was how he'd be living from now on. But he knew he didn't have a choice in that matter, either. If Wilson didn't let him leave, he probably wouldn't let him die either. Not before he had grown bored of him at least, and Maxwell wasn't sure if that was ever going to happen.</p>
<p>"...Yes. I... I would like that, if you please" He hated that he had to stand so low as to ask things like this, but he tried to explain it to himself that it was temporary, he was only doing what he had to do to survive, he wouldn't need to do this forever. At least he was not begging yet.</p>
<p>"Very well. Wait just a moment, I'll be right back." the silky voice hummed and Maxwell felt the light, almost none-existent weight of the other man disappear from his lap.</p>
<p>Wilson hadn't always been so light, had he?</p>
<p>Maxwell remembered the man weighting quite a lot more than he felt right now. He stared at the blackness before him, and with a low, short sigh he hung his head. Merely a minutes later the stillness in the darkness changed again, and the soft, cold talons pressed on his arms when the nightmare king climbed back on his lap.</p>
<p>"Did you miss me, pet? I missed you. I have something very good for you here, so open wide~"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The heavy weight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilson wishes he would've never sat on the throne, and goes to Maxwell for comfort.</p>
<p>WARNINGS: Violence.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The first time the pigs transformed under the full moon was a traumatizing experience to put it lightly. Wilson's kind and helpful, if not just a little bit weird friends, who had never shown hostility towards him if he didn't attack them, were suddenly turned into bloodthirsty monsters with feral, primitive instincts who desired only to tear him to pieces and eat his meat. They got what they wanted.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The second time he tried to reason with them, and barely got away in one piece.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The third time he attacked and realized quickly that he was over-powered way too easily to make it back to his camp alive. He didn't.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>After that he learned to stay away from the village whenever the full moon shone bright above the world. He decided that he could not blame the pigs for their deeds under the influence of the transformation that the moon seemed to trigger, and he kept his friendship with the weird creatures unharmed. Besides, he just yearned to study that particular transformation. It fascinated him, and sometimes he tried to sneak close enough to observe the creatures, but it often ended up in him running away screaming his lungs out, and the pigs, the monsters they'd become, chasing him with til the morning, hunger in their eyes.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson appreciated their help. The pigs cut down trees with him and aided him in battle, and all in the price of couple of treats here and there. Not a bad trade in his eyes, not at all. Until he was hit with the realization that the pigs would follow him around even if it would be the time for full moon tonight.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He desperately tried to explain that they needed to leave, that it was gonna end up in his death if they didn't return to their village and enter their homes before the night fell, but the pigs just gathered around him because hey, they were friends, they just wanted to hang around his campfire with him!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And then the sun set down, and the pigs started to shake and growl as the fur grew on their skin and large fangs replaced their regular pig teeth.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson wasn't prepared, and could only cry in fear and try to shelter himself with his arms when the creatures surrounded him like the wounded prey. He could only hope his death would be a quick one, because he had no way to escape it. He just thrust his eyes shut and prepared for the worst.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>But the worst never came. There was a knew, unrecognizable sound in the night, and a lot of whining and growling, death gurgles and cries, the sound of flesh tearing open. Wilson didn't dare to look, frozen in both surprise and fear.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And then, in the silence, there was a hand that landed on his shoulder softly.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Make my job easier for me and stop doing dumb stuff that gets you killed, okay pal?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson flinched and turned around in horror, but was met only with the chill night air. He looked around. Nothing, no one. All the transformed pigs laid down on the ground, scattered here and there. Not a single one was in one piece, and Wilson rose his hand over his mouth to fight the nausea inside and turned around, starting to wobble away from the bloodbath.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He could've sworn he heard... But it couldn't be. The demon had never spoken to him before without trying to hurt him some way. He had never... No, no, Wilson was just tired. Needed more rest, had to eat better. Delusional, shaken from the attack. That's all.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There was no way Maxwell would ever save him from anything.</em>
</p>
<p><br/>---</p>
<p><br/>Wilson opened his eyes, or at least he tried to. They felt heavier than they should. It was almost painstaking task to keep them open for even a little while. Then again, his whole body felt like it was filled with iron dumbbells and he had barely any strength to try to move at all, hell, even the breathing felt kind of exhausting. It was because of the throne, he knew it. It was sucking him dry and empty of everything he  had, taking every bit of energy from him and feeding off of his mind. He wondered if this is what Maxwell had to go through, if he felt this empty and slow and tired all the time too.</p>
<p>Oh... <em>Maxwell</em>. Wilson had been dreaming about him. Or he thought so. He wished that it was a dream at least, he had managed to convince himself that it had to be a dream, some kind of shadowy nightmare of <em>Their</em> design. It felt like he was watching into someone else's life, like there was this other Wilson, a different him, in a separate dimension. It had to be.</p>
<p>Wilson knew he was able to leave the throne in someway, even when his body obviously stayed tied to it, getting strangled and abraded, the shadows cutting deep into his skin. He had just decided that he hadn't really left, because it felt so weird and wrong when he did.</p>
<p>Maxwell had always showed up as some kind of projection, too. He always looked real, he felt real, but it obviously hadn't been who he really was or where he really was. Even as he had been physical and real to touch, his actual body had been helplessly stuck on the throne all that time, so maybe this was something similar.</p>
<p>Wilson's thoughts were in conflict about that thought. On the other hand, if he did try to leave, did it enough to learn to control it, he might be able to be with Maxwell again, maybe help him someway even. But on the other one, he was really, really scared of the things he apparently did when he was leaving the throne. The things he thought when he was dreaming about Maxwell were... they were wrong. Twisted. It was hard to explain, even to himself, but he had this thirst he couldn't satisfy, and <em>They</em> were always offering him something to ease it, and even thought it was clear as day he was making the deal with the devil, he found it difficult to resist. He got what he wanted, but never enough, never the right way, never for long enough. So he kept asking for more, and it was like an open invitation to <em>Them</em>.</p>
<p>Wilson knew that he felt <em>Them</em> in his head. Always there, snickering, whispering. Half of the time he wasn't sure if the things he did were him or <em>Them</em>, if his thoughts were his own or something <em>They</em> planted inside his mind.</p>
<p>The man shook his head, a desperate attempt to clear his mind which had become so very heavy and foggy as of late. He rose his hands up after what felt like an eternity of time, pulling against the shadows that were wrapped around his wrists, <em> in</em> his wrists, become part of his skin and flesh as they bound him to the throne.</p>
<p>Wilson didn't believe in impossible. Impossible was just something that people didn't understand yet, something that they haven't yet been able to explain with the power of science. But despite what he believed, the young man had started to fear that getting off from this horrible throne without trading his place to another poor unexpecting soul was, in all of the terrifying sense of the word, very impossible.</p>
<p>He stopped struggling and fell limp, allowing his eyes to close again. The endless loop of ragtime played cheerfully next to the throne. Sometimes Wilson could almost forget it was there, the tune was engraved into the background of his thoughts already, almost just part of the scenery. Wilson furrowed his brows, exhausted gurn on his face. No wonder Maxwell had been a little bit short-tempered and angry. This whole thing was driving Wilson crazy and he wasn't sure how much longer he could even take this.</p>
<p>The scary, horrifying thought creeped into his mind.</p>
<p>The eternity was <em>so much longer</em> than he would be able to take this.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Maxwell wasn't really sleeping, but he kept his eyes closed anyway. It was easier to handle the darkness that was forced on him when he chose if he wanted to see it or not.</p>
<p>He was sure that he was losing his mind, slowly but very surely. He had nothing here. Nothing but Wilson, and that wasn't even his Wilson anymore.</p>
<p>The shadows chittered somewhere around him, mocking his sorry state. He didn't care. He had heard it all before, there was nothing that <em>They</em> could say to him that could hurt him anymore. He had been broken and put back together, played carelessly by <em>Them</em> for so many times that he had lost a count of the cracks that must be running through his soul right now. The silver lining of being broken was that nothing could break him anymore. In a way, he felt like it was a small victory for him. The shadows would sometimes turn noticeably annoyed that their mocking whispers didn't get to him, and that was more than enough triumph for him. The shadows would grow tired, they would grow impatient and leave eventually. Find something else to enjoy, someone else to play with.</p>
<p>But then again, he would miss his only other company when they left. Maxwell had been a pathetic young man once, he had been bullied when he was a kid but even then he somehow managed to pretend that it was fine, at least someone paid attention to him, even if it wasn't a very nice kind of attention. The man turned on his side and frowned. Would it really be that bad to let the shadows in so he wouldn't be so alone?</p>
<p><em>Yes</em>, he immediately decided and mentally slapped himself, <em>yes it would</em>. He was not going to bend to Their will anymore and let them have their fun. He was better than that.</p>
<p>Maxwell realized, with a small flinch, that he felt the alarming yearning to be back on the throne the more he though about his situation. For all that it was worth, he could at the very least see something else there, be somewhere else, even as nothing but a projection, a physical, false reflection of his mortal body on the throne. It had been Hell, but oh how much better it sounded right now than being stuck here without any might, any power, anything at all. Apparently even Hell had it's of Hell. Who knew.</p>
<p>Maxwell released a low sigh and closed his eyes again, his arms loosely wrapping around himself. He wondered what he looked like to the shadows in this pitch black void. Sometimes he wanted to hurt himself, just to test it, just to know if he was even real when he was alone, when Wilson was gone. Darkness truly did horrible things to one's mind after a while. And it had been a long, long while for Maxwell. </p>
<p>"<em>PET</em>."</p>
<p>He flinched to the commanding tone in that voice. Wilson wasn't often angry for no reason, and Maxwell felt a wave of worry wash over him, though he wasn't sure if the worry was for Wilson or himself. Wilson's voice wasn't really a shout as much as it was just very, very strong. Strong in the absolute, stone cold and demanding way.</p>
<p>Soon enough Maxwell felt the thin, slender body falling over him, pushing him against the floor and wrapping him inside his arms.</p>
<p>"Higgsb- Wilson."</p>
<p>The King let out a heavy sigh. It sounded irritated. Maxwell didn't dare to move until he found out what was plaguing his dear scientist. No matter how he had changed, Maxwell still loved him. </p>
<p>"Hold me. Now." Wilson sounded more whiny than authoritative, but Maxwell complied, taking his small frame inside his arms. Wilson pressed closer, curling on his lap like a small animal. Maxwell tried to remember that this was not his Wilson, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't like it when the younger man was upset, and when he was laying in his embrace like he needed it more than anything, Maxwell felt his heart getting weaker.</p>
<p>"...What's the matter?" he asked with a husky voice, a small cough in it. He hadn't spoken in a while, days perhaps, and even that short, simple sentence felt like a task. Wilson stirred.</p>
<p>"It feels so heavy..." the man mumbled tiredly.</p>
<p>Well, that sounded weirdly ominous, and without any context Maxwell had absolutely no idea what the man meant by it.</p>
<p>"What does?"</p>
<p>"The throne. It pulls me down like I weight more than thousand stars and it <em>hurts</em>..."</p>
<p>Wilson's voice started to sound dull and weary. Maxwell was confused, very concerned over Wilson's well-being, wondering about how he was holding up where his real body was, on the throne, sitting there alone and helpless. The older man hesitantly started stroking his other hand on Wilson's back in attempt to comfort him, and he felt himself relaxing a bit when the man only pushed closer, a tired whine leaving his lips. It must've been hard on Wilson. He wasn't prepared, he had no idea what he had been doing when he put the key in the lock. The throne was probably torturing him since he was still new to it, still interesting to <em>Them</em>. Maxwell wanted to free him from there, but he couldn't - not even if he wasn't locked away in this dark space. He knew he was not a man enough to sit on the throne anymore, even if he sometimes thought that he would prefer it over this new prison.</p>
<p>"I know. I wish you wouldn't be there" he murmured into Wilson's hair, and the man shifted.</p>
<p>"Why? Am I not a great King?" Wilson's voice found a sharp edge that wasn't there a moment ago, and Maxwell felt gloved claws grasping his suit "Am I not worthy? Am I not treating you well?" The smaller man rose up, and Maxwell tensed, suddenly very aware of the mistake he had made, that he had chosen the wrong words to get his solace through.</p>
<p>"No, I didn't mean-"</p>
<p>"Are you saying that I am not a King fitting to run this world? Are you saying you were <em>better than me?!</em>"</p>
<p>Maxwell opened his mouth to apologize and fix the misunderstanding, but suddenly the shadows thickened around him and curled all over his body, crushing him inside like a bug, so easily and effortlessly, like he was nothing. He would've let out a scream of pain, but he couldn't find his voice, the shadows pressing the air out of his lungs.</p>
<p>Wilson just laughed, a scared, manic laughter full of fear and bitterness.</p>
<p>"<em>Are you saying that I am not GOOD ENOUGH!?!</em>"</p>
<p>Ah, there it was. That was yet another thing, the real reason Wilson was acting this way. Even under this new title of the King of nightmares, Wilson felt insecure and insignificant. He was not angry, he was scared. There were some deep, unhealed wounds, the cruel words from somewhere in his past, the abandonment he had gone through that haunted him like a ghost. Wilson had always been like that, seeking approval, wanting to be someone great, something more than he was. He wanted to be needed and missed, wanted to be special. Maxwell could easily see that <em>They</em> were using it against the poor man, feeding his negative emotions and promising to heal whatever had been hurt. It was not his fault.</p>
<p>The older man sucked in a weak breath. He wanted to comfort Wilson, wanted to hide him inside his arms and tell him that he was good enough for him, always had been, but he couldn't make even a smallest sound, gasping air in desperation to fill his lungs up again. He could already feel his head getting light, the world around him starting to fade.</p>
<p>"You want some proof? You want me to show you how much I can do now, how great and amazing I am?! I am your King and you will give me the respect that I deserve!" </p>
<p>The shadows tightened around him, so tight that Maxwell couldn't even believe how small space they were able to crush him into, and the pain bit into his body when his veins were blocked from delivering blood, when his lungs burned from the need of oxygen, from his ribs cracking against his organs and  then-</p>
<p>Then he passed out.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Maxwell wouldn't have realized that he had awoken again, wouldn't know that he was awake, if it hadn't been for the immeasurable pain he suddenly recognized in everywhere in his body. There was not an inch that didn't hurt, and he took low, deep and slow breath to his abused lungs. He felt like his chest was full of bruises, probably because it was. He didn't need to see it to know how black and blue his whole upper body must've been right now.</p>
<p>"...Oh pet, I am so sorry. I forgot how weak your body really is," the soft, yet not at all regretful voice came above him, and Maxwell realized he was laying on the ground, his head on Wilson's lap. The short man moved his fingers over his chest, perhaps thinking that it was comforting, but it only increased the pain. Maxwell let out weary, pain filled grunt, shifting uncomfortably to find a pose that would hurt less, but not even a few seconds later he decided to just lay down where he was. Not only because he didn't wish to increase the amount of pain he was already in and because the moving hurt like hell, but also because he didn't want to risk awakening Wilson's anger again. Who knew Wilson withheld so much pain inside.</p>
<p>"Now you know better." the man over him murmured "Do not be afraid, pet, I am not angry with you. I will not abandon you because of this small mishap..." Wilson's head leaned lower, and cold, thin lips places a small kiss on Maxwell's forehead. The magician stayed quiet and still, not having any strength to do anything else than breathe at the moment. God, even breathing felt like it burned his chest. Wilson didn't seem to mind his silence, only brushing his fingers over the other man's chest and humming with pleased, low voice.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. How much you like me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilson wants to hear how special he is,  and so does Maxwell.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"Well that looks unsafe."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It was not really a surprise anymore to hear Maxwell's voice right next to his ear, but it made Wilson jump anyway. He had gotten so accustomed to always be on alert and react to anything with panic, because it was safer to treat everything as threat until he was absolutely sure that it wasn't. He grasped the fabric of his shirt and let out startled sigh, and turned to look at the demon who stood next to him, smirk practically cutting his face in half. The younger man scowled and lowered his head at the sinkhole he was standing next to.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I am aware." muttered angrily, then turned his head further away "What do you want now?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell gasped in fake offense once more and pouted "Again, why do you always assume I want something-"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Because you do!" Wilson swirled around to give the other man sharpest glare he could muster "You never come around without wanting something from me, even if it's something as minor and insignificant as asking me a dumb questions that has nothing to do with anything!"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell rose his eyebrow, smirk only slightly fading "Sensitive much, Higgsbury? I thought you appreciated my gift. What does it matter to you if I ask something that doesn't make your life worse in any way at all?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson was a bit taken aback. He looked down. What did it matter to him? It didn't, in all honesty, but Maxwell wasn't someone who was going to just give stuff to him, he always had some secret motive and Wilson knew the man was testing him, trying to get under his skin, trying to trick him in some way.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Fine" he finally just snarled and snapped the light in his minerhat on "I'm just going to go then, if you really don't want any-"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There was a hand on his shoulder which made Wilson halt, immediately growing uncomfortable, tensing up and all his senses screaming to him to hit the demon in the face with his axe and run run run run as far and fast as he was able to. But he didn't. Instead he stood still and waited what the other man wanted.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You have any meat on you, Higgsbury?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>That... was a suspicious question. Wilson frowned and glanced at the man. Maxwell shrugged, the nonchalant, dull expression on his face "You might want to get rid of it in the presence of the residents down there. Just a word of advice."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson glanced down to the dark hole on the ground, then back at Maxwell "...Am I to take it that you just dropped by to give me this wonderfully detailed information, or are you going to actually tell me what you want in exchange for that 'advice' of yours? And before you say anything-" Wilson pointed his finger at Maxwell's face when the man opened his mouth "-I know you want something for that, don't even play that you don't know what I mean."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell smirked at him, what else, and withdrew his hand from his shoulder and Wilson let himself untense a tad bit. The King leaned closer, so close that Wilson was afraid he'd fall backwards straight down the sinkhole if he wasn't careful.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"My, aren't you eager to give something to me, Higgsbury" the man chuckled, gaining himself a deep glower "what would you say if told you I want... a hug." Maxwell's smirk grew uncomfortably wide, and Wilson's eyes widened in disbelief "I'd say you have to be kidding me."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Are you declining?" Maxwell tilted his head. Wilson bit his lip and frowned. He didn't even gain anything from this (well he did, but he didn't ask for the help or advice), so why would he have to give Maxwell anything back? But he knew, sadly, that Maxwell would come up with something very terrible to make him suffer afterwards if he didn't 'pay him back' for something he didn't even want.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The man let out a loud, long groan and opened his arms while rolling his eyes, disgusted frown on his face,  his head turned sideways. He hated the way Maxwell let out pleased and amused chuckle, because the man knew he would get what he wanted anyway, and Wilson just had to bit his teeth together and put up with it. Maxwell stepped closer and for a moment just stood there, making Wilson wait, that bastard, and when nothing happened for a way too long while, the shorter man rose his eyes up, annoyed "What are you waiting for?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell only smirked, almost looking like he was holding back a laughter.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Your hug, obviously. I understand that you must not know how hugs work, but you have to close your arms too, dear."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Something stung Wilson's chest, a brief hurt visiting his face over the comment that was probably not even meant to cut so deep, not meant to hit some sensitive spot in his memory, and the man lowered his head and bit his lip, slowly wrapping his arms around the tall man he hated so, SO much. Maxwell followed after him, his longer arms pulling Wilson close, too close, and it was unnerving, irritating and unpleasant. But if Wilson was able to forget that it was Maxwell he was smushed against, that this was done just to humiliate him, he could actually find a small bit of comfort of being held. Being held gently and firmly, and he dared to close his eyes just because he knew Maxwell couldn't see his face when he hung his head and leaned on his jacket.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>...He didn't really know how hugs worked. He hadn't been hugged much in his life.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Then, after a while, it suddenly struck Wilson that he had stood in the hug for a little bit longer than he intended, and he made a small sound and tried to pull away, but was just yanked back. The immediate panic hit in, the fear that he would not be let go at all, that this had in fact been a trick and he was helpless and unprepared...</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Just hold on for a bit, I'm not done."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It didn't ease his mind at all, and Wilson froze, thrusting his eyes shut, grasping his hands into fists and waiting for what Maxwell had in line for him. But it seemed like there was nothing, since after a minute or two he was let go when Maxwell suddenly disappeared in a puff of a smoke, leaving him waver for balance and then just stand there alone, very confused and unsure what to make of all that.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wilson visited him every few days, it seemed. Maxwell had no real way to tell the passage of time here except his body growing hungry and thirsty, the basic human needs giving him some sort of image of how long he was left to lay in the dark at a time. Even thought Wilson had become somewhat condescending and degrading, at least  he was providing him with food and giving him someone to talk to.</p>
<p>"Pet?" The voice as perfect and soft as black velvet purred into his ear.</p>
<p>"Hm?" Maxwell gave him only an acknowledging short hum, not rising his head from the sheet of shadows that Wilson had summoned to give them a soft surface to lay on. It seemed that he still liked cuddling, even now as a King. Maxwell almost considered not to humor him, but he had to play it safe for a while, at least until he would start feeling less cold, and when his chest didn't feel like it had been crushed under the weight of thousands of beefalo and left bleeding and broken.</p>
<p>"Tell me how much you like me again."</p>
<p>Maxwell let another sigh run through his lips. A faint memory tickled his brain from the past, something that had been asked from him before, but it was fastly rushed away when the sharp claw tips dug ever so slightly into his skin as warning - the King didn't like waiting when he asked for something. Maxwell was quick to fix it.</p>
<p>"I want to make you happy."</p>
<p>"I'm happy when you are with me" came the answer, the claws drawing patterns over Maxwell's chest, so carefully and softly, leaving tickling sensations after them, mindful to avoid the darker bruises and the one side where the pain was sharper and heavier.</p>
<p>"...I really miss you."</p>
<p>"I'm right here, pet" Wilson laughed and poked the older man's cheek with his nose, snuggling him fondly. Maxwell wanted to correct him, tell him that he missed the real him, but he swallowed the thought away. He knew Wilson wouldn't understand what he actually meant and would just get furious. He didn't understand that Maxwell missed who he was before all of this mess. The older man suspected that Wilson was not even fully aware that he was controlled by <em>Them</em> like this, and that this was not who he had been previously. Wilson's mind was clouded by the shadows, the veil over his eyes too thick to see how things really were, too comforting to care.</p>
<p>Maxwell understood how that felt. It was so much easier to pretend that you were not at fault, that you weren't really doing anything wrong, and when there was that ongoing pain, the fear and the regret on the other side of that fog, it became so alluring to turn you head the other way and let yourself be fed the sweet tasting denial instead. The power, no matter how fake or false, and the feeling of being invincible was enough to make anyone go crazy with it, and if you added all the other little tricks <em>They</em> pulled on you, it wasn't hard to forget how things really were and who you had been before.</p>
<p>There was an empty, longing feeling growing in his chest when the magician thought about it. The anger of being imprisoned, the blame he hold Wilson to, it seemed to lessen a great deal when he realized that he had perhaps never done something like this to Wilson, but he had been no better with his own thought-process either. He, too, had knowingly decided to turn his head from the things he did wrong and pretend he wasn't to blame.</p>
<p>"I... I just wish we could both be somewhere safe." he admitted in a low voice.</p>
<p>"Don't be scared, I will keep you safe. Nothing will hurt you here, nothing can take you away from me" Wilson consoled him, a cold finger running under his chin, turning his head to meet Wilson's lips "I love how much you love me, pet. I could listen to your voice talking sweet nothings to me the whole day long. And I just might, you know." </p>
<p>Maxwell closed his eyes and let Wilson snuggle his face some more, an occasional small kiss pressed on his cheek every now and then. He still hurt, he was pretty sure that at least one of his ribs was broken, and there was a constant, ongoing pain in his chest when he inhaled, not to mention his arms and torso were black and pink and blue from the crushing grip of the shadows. Although Wilson had been fairly careful with him after his little outburst, it wasn't really for the sake of making him comfortable or being sorry for hurting him. No, Wilson was simply just making sure that his property would not break any further.</p>
<p>In a way he was far more gentle King than Maxwell had been, and the man felt a bang of guilt in his chest again. There was something else too, a grief maybe, he wasn't quite certain. He had been very horrible to Wilson at the start, before he had grown this unnatural interest to the man, grown to appreciate and even like him. To love him, even if he hadn't ever said it out loud.</p>
<p>Maxwell knew that Wilson had forgotten that, had fallen for him just as much as he had fallen for the scientist, but he felt self-conscious about it everytime the thought crossed his mind. Perhaps if he hadn't been so eager to make Wilson struggle, if he hadn't made his survival a gamble and run him into a trouble so much all the time, he might have been able to feel angrier at the younger man for doing this now. Well, he <em>was</em> still angry, but he couldn't blame Wilson. He had been worse, before he had realized how interested he was in the scientist, before he had realized how much joy his voice and his eyes and his smile and touch brought to him.</p>
<p>He wondered if Wilson felt the way he had been feeling before the throne, if there was any real fondness left for him, or if it had all faded away. Wilson's behavior was far more obsessive than caring, and even thought he clearly held some feeling towards Maxwell, it was uncertain what kind of feelings they really were anymore. </p>
<p>"...H-Wilson..."  Maxwell asked carefully, slowly testing the air between them "How much do<em> you</em> like me?" He felt his face getting red just from that one question, felt so unnaturally needy for even having to ask it, but he had to know. He was alone, even with Wilson's company he felt like he was still alone, so alone, and he just... maybe he just wanted to hear that his Wilson was still in there, that he really meant something more to the scientist than what he thought he did.</p>
<p>"Oh? You need more of my attention, pet? How sweet."</p>
<p>Wilson had developed this irritating habit to make everything about himself lately.</p>
<p>"I want everything in you to be mine. I would destroy anyone, <em>anything</em> that would dare to hurt you in any way. I would rip them apart and make sure their death is slow and painful if they as much as looked at you the wrong way."</p>
<p>Maxwell furrowed his brows, fighting to keep the sigh escaping his lips. <em>Oh Wilson, how blind you have become to your own faults...</em></p>
<p>"I want to protect you, I want to lock you away, hide you from the world that wants to hurt you, keep you close so I don't ever have to be without you..."</p>
<p>Wilson already had locked him away. He already was hidden away from the world.</p>
<p>"I want to be so close to you that you will become part of me, be mine, be me, be always with me right where you belong." Wilson caressed his pet's cheek, wrapping both his arms and legs around him like he was a huge plushie. Oh, how he loved this, how he loved Maxwell. He could never get enough, his pet was perfect, he made Wilson happy, he let Wilson be himself, he needed Wilson so much... Nobody had ever needed Wilson. Nobody had ever wanted him either.</p>
<p>But Maxwell, he did! He was Wilson's own, his very own, the love of his life, he needed and wanted and adored him like the God of this world that he was, and Wilson would burn with the delicious dark greed to be drowned into the praise and affection that Maxwell was giving him. And Maxwell always gave it to him, Maxwell was giving him all he needed and it made Wilson warm and fuzzy and excited like a kid in Christmas.</p>
<p>It was a weird kind of feeling, to be loved by someone even when he was just himself, and maybe Wilson was not quite sure how to really handle it, but he knew he never wanted to let go of it, ever. Maxwell had filled some deeply needing, empty space inside that he had never cared to think about, but now that he knew it had been empty and dark and freezing cold because he had just never been cared about by anyone before, he wouldn't let it drain empty again. He had Maxwell, that's all he needed.</p>
<p>His pet had become tired lately, apathetic even, but it didn't really matter. Wilson knew that the tall man just had a hard time adjusting to things now that he wasn't the King anymore, and it was the small price to pay for his safety and health. Wilson would do anything to protect Maxwell, to keep the only person who ever cared about him in his life for all the eternity. As long as he was here, nothing was going to take him away from Wilson. Maxwell would understand in time, just like Wilson grew to understand, just like it was supposed to be. Things were fine like this, everything just like it should be.</p>
<p>"Is that what you wanted to hear? Do you feel better now?"</p>
<p>His Maxwell just sighed and turned his head away, looking tired and maybe even dreary, and it made Wilson pout, pushing his head against the other man's neck. His Maxwell. His pet. The only one who cared, the only one whose love was unconditional and unquestionable.</p>
<p>"Don't worry, it's going to be fine. Everything is fine. I'm right here with you" Wilson cooed and planted a light kiss on his collarbones. He knew Maxwell had been very lonely, all alone in the throne room for years, all alone without anyone who cared or grieved for him, without anyone who remembered he existed or would ever want to free him. It must've been so though to try to fight through it, not even knowing what he was fighting for. But now he had Wilson. The younger man admitted that when he first heard that Maxwell was actually imprisoned, held against his will somewhere he wasn't able to leave, it had made him question if Maxwell really cared about him, or if he was here to just fill the emptiness, a simple little plaything because The former King had been bored. But, even if that was the case, it wasn't like Wilson didn't use Maxwell to fill some void in his heart too.</p>
<p>But then again, The scientist thought as he watched his own fingers dance gently over Maxwell's shirt, the older man had even offered to leave him alone when he was unsure Wilson wanted him around. It had been a little wake up call, made Wilson understand that Maxwell cared about his feelings, that as much as he needed Wilson, he wouldn't want to force him to tolerate his presence. And Wilson had understood that Maxwell, his Maxwell, was somewhere alone and lonely and kept away from him, and Wilson needed to free him, and he would do it thousand times over if he had the choice. Because now nothing was keeping Maxwell away from him anymore, and he'd get to have him by his side forever.</p>
<p>Although he didn't really understand why Maxwell would ever want to hand away all this power and knowledge for something as trivial as freedom, Wilson was sure he knew the real reason for that. Maxwell had sat on the throne for so long all alone. It hadn't been so long ago when he got Wilson to keep him company. But Wilson get to have the power <em>and</em> Maxwell, and it was far better than having to always wait for the man to show up, having to wonder silently where he was and if was being lonely there.</p>
<p>Perhaps, a long time ago, Wilson had been afraid that Maxwell didn't really care, but now he knew better. Now he was sure that everything was worth it as long as he had Maxwell, as long as they could be together. This had all been worth it.</p>
<p>"My pet" he crooned at the magician laying in his arms, his hands wrapping over the older man's chest and sinking into his mortal warmth, softly kissing the bruises on his chest and humming when the man grimaced from his touch. He would understand too, one day. Wilson was a patient man when he wanted to be. He had all the eternity to wait</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Grue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilson visits the survivors and run into the night monster.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Look, if you give me the slightest slimmest smallest chance to somehow drag Charlie into my fics, then betcha I will.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The spring. Finally, finally the spring. Wilson could've cried out for the relief of surviving through the winter, and he just might. It had been so long since he had last felt the sunlight warming his skin, so long since the last time the day was actually bright like it should be.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The scientist took in the long breath of the air and exited his tent. He had so much work to do, so much he had to prepare for...</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Good morning Higgsbury."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson screamed and jumped back, his hand already finding the handle of his spear out of the habit and instinct, and pointed it to the direction of the voice.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell rose his eyebrow at him, sitting on the log and drinking tea - drinking tea from the actual freaking teacup, for crying out loud!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Well somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed." the dapper man commented and took a sip. Wilson furrowed his brows and eyed the man with suspicion and mild curiosity.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"What are you doing here now, Maxwell?" Wilson couldn't stop himself from rubbing his forehead - Maxwell had this habit of just suddenly appearing in his camp, as if he had always been there with Wilson, using his things and invading his space and then acting like Wilson was the one being unreasonable about it.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I am having a breakfast. Would you like to join me?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson lowered his hand to see that Maxwell had a plate next to him, full of food that Wilson could only assume was taken from his icebox. He sighed and rolled his eyes, walking to sit opposite to the other man, keeping the spear on his grip - not that he would actually be able to hurt Maxwell, but putting it away would be the same as saying 'look, here I am, kill me!'. Besides, maybe if Wilson just entertained Maxwell a little bit, he would leave faster this time.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Try the lobster, it's especially good" Maxwell offered him the big plate, and Wilson registered somewhere in his mind that there definitely hadn't been any seafood in his icebox. He glared Maxwell under his brows, rising one of them suspicion. The man snorted.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Not hungry? Suit yourself." Maxwell withdrew the plate from him and shrugged.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Look; I just woke up, I am tired and hungry, and I have a lot of work to do. Can you just do what ever you came here to do and get it over with... Just for this once?" Wilson ruffled his hair, and hoped, wished that Maxwell would just one time in his life grand his wish and not waste both of their time with useless games.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell hummed and crossed his legs, lighting the cigar and sat there like a god damn business man considering the offer. Wilson was so incredibly jealous that Maxwell had the privilege to just consider if he wanted something, and privilege to even deny it. Oh, how Wilson just craved to be so good and well in life that he could deny something offered to him. If only.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Well well... It appears we have bit of a pickle here, Higgsbury. See, what I came here for is not something one can simply 'get over with' quickly and then leave."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson did NOT like the sound of that.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"So, what? we're just gonna sit here the whole day? I can't afford to waste time like that, you know I can't!" he gasped, almost desperately, although he worked really hard to hide his frustration. Maxwell didn't seem to care in the slightest. Wilson watched the cigar rise to his lips and draw away, the grey stream of smoke slithering out of Maxwell's mouth.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You certainly can't. So I have a proposition." Maxwell tapped the cinders from the cigar on the plate, and Wilson internally screamed for the waste of food and because he knew, he god damn knew there was gonna be another deal! There always was.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"What proposition?" the scientist groaned, almost whined.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You can go and do whatever you were planning to do today."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"...And?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"And I will come with you."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson stared. And stared. And stared, but the punchline never came. Maxwell just kept smoking and didn't look like he had anything to add.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You can't be serious." Wilson breathed, not buying for a second that that was the only thing the King wanted. Just follow him around? Well, knowing Maxwell, he was probably going to laugh and make fun of him, maybe he was planning to even ruin everything he tried to do until his entire day would be wasted anyway.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I am very serious, dear."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"No." Wilson stated and shook his head "No, I am not going to let you ruin something for me today." he clenched his hands into fists, trying to come across much braver than he really felt. Angering Maxwell was the same things as committing a suicide. Or asking to be put through the worst upcoming few weeks, maybe even months, you ever had, depending how cruel the man felt at the moment.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell was watching him, still drawing the cigar to and from his lips, thinking. Then, to Wilson disbelief the man nodded in agreement "Very well, Higgsbury." he stood up, tossed the cigar into the ashes of the firepit, and straightened his suit "I shall bid you my farewell, then."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson stood still as the stone, afraid to move when Maxwell walked past him. He didn't trust this, and he had to know what was going on, what was the man planning, he had the itching need to know...</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Wait." Wilson spurted, took in deep breath, and turned around. Maxwell was still there, standing his back turned to the shorter man. Wilson glanced briefly at the ground before raising his gaze back at the man "...What would've you really wanted from this deal?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It was a stupid question, for more reasons than one, and many of the reasons had very much something to do with giving Maxwell ideas that Wilson didn't want him having. He cursed and damned his own curiosity in his mind, waiting for an answer. The nightmare King stood silent for a while, and then shrugged.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Someone to talk to."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson didn't believe it - didn't want to believe it, but when his mouth opened again, his voice was more concerned than he intended "Why?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell turned to glance at him over his shoulder, smirking. As annoying and terrifying as his smirk could be, it didn't reach his eyes this time.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Even a man as great as the King can still get lonely on his throne, I guess."</em>
</p>
<p><br/>---</p>
<p><br/>The night had already fallen, and it was the time of a new moon, the darkest time of the month, and quiet as can be. This particular area had no nocturnal creatures nearby, and the stillness on the air was almost creepy.</p>
<p>Wilson walked around a small camp and watched it nonchalantly, a bored frown on his face. He wasn't really a judgemental person in his core, especially seeing as the standards here were rather low in general, so he wasn't really one to stuck up his nose to the shabby, shoddy campsites he came across. This one was very organized and neat setup, work of the old librarian, everything in their right places and no messes to be seen anywhere.</p>
<p>Wilson picked up a book and started absentmindedly turning the pages. Wickerbottom was someone he had once liked, actually offering him some knowledge of her own and intelligent conversation for a change, but even before his reign as the King Wilson remembered that he had not liked her strict way of organizing things. Wilson was not an organized person. He kept his things close and at hand's reach, but there was no order or category for his stuff beyond that. It was a controlled chaos of his own, things were exactly where he could find them, and that was good enough for him.</p>
<p>The King shrugged and put the book back where it was. He didn't enjoy tormenting the survivors really, but just for a change, it <em>was</em> kind of fun to watch someone else get kicked when they were down and tortured out of nothing else than amusement. He wouldn't lie to himself, it felt good to be at the other end of the gun, not the one being hunted, but being the hunter instead. Although Wilson would admit that his interest was not so much on the survivors. He had his pet safe and sound in the dimension he had made just for him, a perfect, well-crafted cage to keep him from harm, and he wanted to spend as much time in there as he could.</p>
<p>But he was the King, and there were things <em>They</em> wanted from him, so he had to give at least part of his attention to the pawns running in this little world of his. And as much as he wasn't always up to that, at least there were still some good things he could find in here. </p>
<p>The short King smiled and crouched down, gifting a few scratches on sleeping Chester's fur. His other favorite little guy, all heart and mouth and no brains. Wilson was glad that the chest was doing fine, as dumb as it sounded. He was more worried over Chester than the people who he once used to care about. He glanced at the tent.</p>
<p>The old woman was sleeping, which was highly unusual for her. Apparently she had found a mandrake and used it to get a little bit of a rest for once, which meant that she must've been really in need of it. Wasting a resource as rare and hard to find as a mandrake was not something the old woman was likely to do without a very good reason, which was admirable. Wilson remembered that he used to be a little bit too fast to make his own decisions as a survivor, which didn't always lead to very favorable results. Maybe if he had spent more time calculating the risks rather than jumping straight through ominous holes on the ground and only later wondering if it was all that sane thing to do, he would've saved himself a lot of trouble and trauma.</p>
<p>But it was all in the past now. He needn't to worry over such things any longer.</p>
<p>A malicious, dark grin swam up on Wilson's face. He  petted Chester one last time before standing up and snapping his fingers. As the short man turned to walk away from the camp to see if he could run into something else interesting, he heard the inescapable and sinister baying of the hounds behind his back. Such a waste of mandrakes, really.</p>
<p>Wilson didn't get very far when he was stopped by the strong, sweet scent in the dark that gathered around him like a veil. The man sighed and  rubbed his hand on his face, getting uncomfortable already. It was <em>her</em> again. He could feel her, invisible eyes watching him in the dark, could almost hear her speaking to him, trying to form a question in her tongue, asking, asking, <em>asking</em>, always the same question.</p>
<p>"Look here, miss..." Wilson sighed, trying to hide away his discomfort "Maxwell is doing well and he is happy. You can stop pestering me about it."</p>
<p>The voice, incoherent and disjointed, whispered closer.</p>
<p>
  <em>Max... Maxy... what... done... you... done with... what with him...where... take... you taken... him...</em>
</p>
<p>Wilson scowled.</p>
<p>This creature in the dark, this thing that didn't really have a physical form, yet somehow still did, was a mystery to him. He could never quite see her even with his new ability to see in the dark, only a small glimpses at time, like the movement in the corner of his eye that was always just out of reach. She seemed to always avoid his vision, either intentionally or not, he couldn't tell, always in his sight just for a vague second, leaving only a flaming, wavy traces of feminine figure in his mind. Her voice, very similar to shadows, to <em>Them</em>, was always <em>almost</em> reaching his ears, <em>almost</em> there, but it's like it got stuck in the midway, couldn't get through the invisible obstacle. And there was always the scent of flowers that followed her. It was the most distinctive trademark that foretold her arrival, as if Wilson had suddenly stepped through the gate and entered the rose garden everytime she found him.</p>
<p>And she always did, always knew where to find him.</p>
<p>Wilson knew she was the grue, the night monster that had managed to kill him so many times in the past. He hadn't known the creature was intelligent in some level, and he was curious of why she felt so different, and most of all, why was she so focused on Maxwell. Maxwell had only been surviving couple of weeks before Wilson had taken him away from this horrible world, there should've been no reason for her to get attached to him in any way. Unless it had something to do with Maxwell being the former King and all, but she never even tried to talk about that. It was always just asking where he was and almost demanding to give him back. Wilson was not hearing such demands from the monster, neither was he happy that something so dangerous as this entity in the darkness was searching for Maxwell.</p>
<p>Wilson knew she was more dangerous than than the other things in the Constant, but she was still just another thing he had to keep away from Maxwell, his Maxwell. She was not a shadow, but very close. Somehow she was different from even them. She lived in the night and was one with the darkness, and the darkness was beyond the things Wilson could control, and he suspected that Maxwell hadn't had any power over it either. Wilson had no idea who she was, why and how she knew Maxwell, but he didn't like her constantly pestering him over it, her unclear tone almost inculpatory. Speaking of the devil, her voice grew stronger and echoed in his head again.</p>
<p>
  <em>Where... hidden... you... let him... where... let... go... Maxy...</em>
</p>
<p>The creature sounded almost angry at him, which in turn made Wilson angry at her.</p>
<p>"Stop asking. He is safe. That is all you need to know, grue." The scientist hissed back at the monster, before disappearing away from her and her annoying, unwanted query, and he could hear one last outraged hiss when he retreated from the scene. She got on his nerves badly, her accusing undertone when she spoke, asking about <em>Wilson's Maxwell</em>, <em>his pet</em>, and being over all untouchable which made her a threat unlike any other. Still, the fact that she was asking him where Maxwell was meant that even something as powerful as her couldn't get into the dimension where he had taken Maxwell. It was a small comfort, to know she had no idea where the magician was. Maxwell was safe from everything in there, everything else except from <em>Them</em>, but Wilson was the King now, he wouldn't let <em>Them</em> touch his pet. He would protect the man he loved by any means necessary, and nothing could take Maxwell away from him.</p>
<p>Somewhere in the emptiness of the night, the silence now broken and disturbed by the bloodcurdling barking and terrified screams, the darkness wailed and gnarled miserably after the King.</p>
<p>But there was nobody left to hear her distress.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Maxwell's dull counting of the seconds (he had gotten somewhere around five thousand before lost count and had to start all over) was cut off by the sudden yank of the shadows when he was rather violently pulled up to stand on his feet. The man clenched his teeth tightly together when he teetered on his legs, hissing a pain filled inhale when his bruised body cried from the manhandling. He wasn't surprised when the thin, short body pressed against him, grasping him inside the cold arms.</p>
<p>The silence stood still and unchanged. Maxwell didn't hurry to fill it up, trying to will the pain away, still a bit cold, which wasn't a good sign, and getting used to support himself in a way that wouldn't put unnecessary pressure over his aching ribs. He took in several, slow breaths, calming himself down for a while. Wilson didn't seem eager to hurry him up, thank the stars, but eventually the quiet of the shadow King got too nerve-wrecking for him and Maxwell cleared his throat.</p>
<p>"Is... Is something the matter?"</p>
<p>Wilson answered with low, frustrated growl. Oh, that couldn't be good. Maxwell decided not to press the issue in case Wilson was in the mood to explode and start strangling him again. He'd prefer to keep the rest of his ribs unbroken.</p>
<p>"The monster in the night... Do you know her?"</p>
<p>Maxwell flinched and a small, apprehensive gasp escaped his lips.</p>
<p><em>Charlie</em>.</p>
<p>How did Wilson know about her?</p>
<p>The man forced himself to get a hold of himself, masking his fresh panic away and managing to sound calm, almost bored as he spoke.</p>
<p>"Why do you ask?"</p>
<p>The grip around him tightened. It didn't seem like Wilson was trying to really hurt him rather than just being extremely clingy for a change, but it still shot pain through him and made him grit his teeth in attempt to suck back the pain filled groan.</p>
<p>"You must know about her. She asks about you. I don't like it."</p>
<p>Whatever willpower it had been that was holding his emotions away crumbled down in a second, and Maxwell felt his cheeks turn red and something sting his chest.</p>
<p>"She... She is asking about me?"</p>
<p>It was somehow both comforting and worrisome. He never thought that  Charlie would even think about him, not fondly at least, and the fact that she had been asking about him gave the man yet another reason to feel guilty over her sad fate. It's not like he hadn't thought about her too, not at all. She was in his mind in daily basis, but she had never showed herself to him, not even when he had just been throned and searched for her around the Constant and begged her to forgive him. Her silence had been an answer he was forced to take, and with a heavy heart he had left her alone.</p>
<p>But if Charlie really had been asking about him, Maxwell thought with a faint, barely even visible smile on his lips, she must still care about him, even a little bit. He wasn't sure if he deserved it, though. </p>
<p>"Yes, and I don't like it." Wilson's voice came out low and grim and snapped Maxwell out of his reminiscence. The man could feel the jealousy dripping from his voice when the short man tensed his muscles and the grip tightened even more. Maxwell shifted uncomfortably under the hold, but it only made the arms around him tighten, as if they weren't tight enough in the first place.</p>
<p>"She is dangerous. I don't like it. I don't like that she is asking about you, she could hurt you, she could kill you." Wilson's voice was thoughtful for a moment "You were the King before me, you must have a lot of knowledge about her too... How do you get rid of her?"</p>
<p>"Leave her alone." Maxwell didn't even think before speaking, the words coming out fast, demanding but sided with a deep concern, even as he knew, for a fact, that there was nothing Wilson could do to hurt Charlie. She was no threat to <em>Them</em> or their King, so there had never been a reason to find a way to hurt her - Not that Maxwell would've even tried, not in a million years would the idea of harming Charlie pass his mind.</p>
<p>The answer he gave Wilson was obviously and expectedly the wrong one. The Nightmare King fell silent for a long while, his body frozen in place like a stone, but Maxwell could feel the shadows moving and swirling, almost burning like cold flames around them. He didn't dare to say anything, but he could not allow Wilson to hurt Charlie. There was no reason to be jealous nor worried. Maxwell was Wilson's, at the moment quite literally, and seeing as he had stayed in complete darkness for hell knows how long, it was evident that Charlie either wasn't able to or willing to come in to this place. He wasn't sure which option he'd prefer less, both worrisome and terrifying in their own way.</p>
<p>"...What do you care? Why should I leave her alone, she is the one who comes to me... I'm the King, I can do what ever the hell I want." Wilson snarled and something cold and smooth pressed against the older man's back, when he realized, with a groan of discomfort, that a shadow hand that was much larger than himself seemed to grip on him from behind.</p>
<p>"Would you rather be with her, is that it? Do you care about her more than me, even after everything you've said to me, and you, you never told me..." Wilson's voice was growling and lined too close to the edge, furious, just a few step away from snapping. But it was thick and heavy, and for entirely different reason "You... You never told me about her, not even when I talked about the creature in the dark for you, you didn't even - I thought you <em>loved</em> me... after I've been so good and after I've done so much to make you happy, I, I even came all the way to the throne because I <em>love</em> you-"</p>
<p>Maxwell knew it was probably dangerous thing to comfort Wilson when the man had already convinced himself that all of the wrong things he did were right, and Maxwell didn't want to incite him fruther, but god damn it, he couldn't stand to hear him being so sad and desperate. He only hesitated a little before wrapping Wilson under his arms and pushing his cheek on top of his head. It made Wilson wince and let out a quiet, shaken small sound. Poor thing.</p>
<p>"...She is an old friend of mine, she ended up here because of me. I... I hurt her. It's painful to talk about it, so I didn't. I hope you understand, it's a personal matter to me" the older man muttered into Wilson's hair "I still love you, I've never lied about that. I would never replace you in any way... I'm sorry if I made you fear that." Maxwell was  almost relieved when the grip on him loosened and Wilson relaxed in his arms, instead sniffing quietly and leaning his own head on his chest.</p>
<p>"I love you, pet, you are so good to me." the man purred, visibly relieved, shaky fingers stroking on his back loosely "If that is something that makes you upset, I will make sure she will never bother you anymore. I don't want you to hurt, I could destroy anyo-"</p>
<p>"No, there's no need. She isn't a threat to me" Maxwell hurried to say and placed his hand on Wilson's cheek to keep the man calm. It wasn't really true, Charlie could and <em>would</em> easily hurt him without hesitation if he wasn't hidden away in here, but he didn't want either her or Wilson to get it in their heads that they needed to become more violent towards one another over any reason. Wilson was silent for a second, until he rose up to Maxwell's level, forcing the man to withdraw his head away, and soon there was a pair of lips on his cheek and hands curling over his wrists.</p>
<p>"Very well, pet. I will forget about her for now. But don't interrupt me again." The grip on Maxwell's wrists tightened and made him wince, and he had to grit his teeth together to keep himself from letting out a sound of pain "Is that clear?" the grip grew even tighter, and Maxwell was beginning to fear that Wilson was going to snap his wrists.</p>
<p>"Yes!" he groaned through his teeth, failing to stop the whine slithering out with his words, and soon his hands were let go, hurting but in one piece, at least. The sharp fingertip playfully tapped against his nose as Wilson giggled.</p>
<p>"Good! I'm glad you understand me so well."</p>
<p>Maxwell didn't answer, didn't want to push his luck now that Wilson had seemingly calmed down and didn't seem like he'd jump into more violence right now. Maxwell sighed slowly, now only just carefully holding the other man, not really hugging him anymore, just loosely keeping arms around him until he'd decide to leave again. </p>
<p>Maxwell didn't really like being alone here, didn't feel sane in his lonesomeness, didn't feel safe with just the shadow's whispers keeping him company, but he dreaded the things Wilson might do if he happened to accidentally set the King off again, make him furious inside his new unstable mind. It was an undesired choice between the constant fear of violence, and the anxiety bringing bad memories in the too familiar loneliness he was forced into. It was as furthest away from ideal as possibly could, but for the time being, just for a short while, he'd let the man place small kisses all over his face and neck, because no matter that it was someone else wearing Wilson skin, using his voice, playing with him like a hand-puppet, it was the only thing he had left of his lover anymore.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Dance with me, dear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilson tries to be romantic.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Wilson had noticed, after a few newest encounters with Maxwell, that the King could be surprisingly friendly when he wanted to be. Wilson still didn't trust him, still kept his defenses up, still doubted anything he said, but he had grown a little bit more relaxed, too. He didn't startle away like he used to, didn't scowl at his voice as often as before, and well, there were the few advantages that came up with the company of the older man.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson reminded himself that the only reason he allowed the King in his company was because first of all, he was the King of this upside-down world, so the scientist really had no say in the matter in the end, and two, Maxwell had proven to be very useful - not only did he possess some kind of unknown ability (that Wilson refused to call magic) and could easily just summon the things he needed if he so wished, but the monsters never attacked when he was around either.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell could be unforgivably annoying and threatening, but not as much as he used to be. If Wilson could keep his cool and look some questionable things through his fingers, then Maxwell would often drop the act a little, be even somewhat humane. Which was weird, but not something Wilson could ever say out loud in fear of awakening the wrath of the man... Maxwell still was, after all, very powerful and scary person.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>So when Maxwell was waiting for him in his camp, sitting near the fire that had already been lit up, Wilson found himself only a little bit unnerved. It was late, and he was tired, so he just hoped that whatever Maxwell was in need of could be done quickly so he could go to sleep as soon as possible.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Evening, Higgsbury." the man greeted him, not even looking away from the fire. Wilson hummed in answer, walking to place his belongings in the chests.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Can you just-" Wilson tried to fight the yawn that emerged from his mouth anyway "can you just do what ever you came here for and let me sleep? I'm sorry I've had a long day..." the man muttered, rubbing his hand over his forehead and neck. God the days in here could certainly get tough sometimes.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He jumped when there suddenly was a hand on his waist, and Maxwell leaned on his back and his lips were a way too close to his ear "You sound exhausted. Must've been one hell of a day you've had, pal" the man mused and tapped his long, sharp talons on younger man's shirt. Wilson managed to stop a shiver that tried to run up his spine when those gloved hands touched him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I-I... yes." he mumbled out, tense and alert. Maxwell might act calm and kind sometimes, but there was no reason for him to not attack Wilson at any point if he so wanted.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You certainly feel pretty stiff..." Maxwell said with a low, thoughtful voice as his hands run up Wilson's sides and slipped on his shoulders "When's the last time you have taken care of your body?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson opened his mouth, taking a second to get his voice out.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I, uh... what?" he was genuinely confused about the question. He had to take care of himself every day, he would've died a long time ago if he didn't make sure he was healthy and fine and in shape, at least as much as one could be in the Constant. But taking care of his body? His cheeks started warming up a little. Maxwell couldn't possibly mean...</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The hands on his shoulders pressed tighter and Wilson wasn't fast enough to stop a yelp escaping his mouth, and he hated himself for sounding like a startled puppy.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"How about I help you to relax, Higgsbury?" Maxwell hummed when one of his hands slipped briefly under the collar of his shirt. Every single hair on Wilson's neck stood up as he froze in place and his gut flipped uncomfortably.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"M-maxwell I, um, I-I don't know if-" he stuttered, panic rising inside. Oh no, no, he didn't like where this was headed. But he was seriously very scared for his own safety if he refused the advantages that Maxwell was pushing on him. Was he even allowed to say no? Would it end up badly for him if he refused what Maxwell wanted?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Don't worry, I may not be a professional massagist, but I know how to ease up some pain in muscles here and there."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>....Oh.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Well, that wasn't what he had-</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>-Massage would be okay, Wilson decided, and felt a light pink hue warming his cheeks even harder. He relaxed a bit, still a little nervous and unsure if he should trust Maxwell. But he would've lied if he pretended that the palms pressing on his shoulders didn't feel good.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Okay" he finally gave in and let Maxwell loosen his vest and shirt and move them out of the way. He could've done it himself, but he was a little afraid to lead Maxwell on to wrong direction. He did not want to give the older man any wrong ideas. Maxwell just hummed to himself, all the while undressing the younger man and rubbing his hands on his upper back, and Wilson was not quite sure when he had sat down or when Maxwell had sat behind him, but his mind was just set letting the bony hands press and rub his aching back and open some knots and relax his tense body up... it felt good, a little distracting maybe.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Feels good, doesn't it?" Maxwell huffed in his ear with a voice that Wilson might've realized as seductive if his mind wasn't so blissfully unwinding alongside with his body, and just nodded with an acknowledging hum. Maxwell sure was good with his hands. It made Wilson wonder if Maxwell had been telling him the truth of not being a professional... Then again, why would the nightmare King be professional massagist? The mere idea felt silly, and Wilson was a little amused by the image of Maxwell doing something like this as a job.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell had been right, he hadn't really realized how badly he had been taking care of himself lately. Or rather ever. He didn't remember being very good at keeping himself healthy on Earth either. There had been more than one instance when he had fallen asleep over his desk and that had done a number on his spine a few times.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"My God, Higgsbury, your entire back is harder than most of the boulders here." Maxwell muttered to himself, sounding almost offended of how tense Wilson's muscles were, and Wilson choke out a chuckle.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Well it's hard life here... I can't help it" he closed his eyes again and let his teeth nibble his lower lip in satisfaction. Maxwell just scoffed.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I should start taking care of you since you clearly have no idea how to do it yourself..."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson opened his eyes and looked down. Maxwell was being nice now, but what about tomorrow? Or next week? Wilson was here for a reason, he was here because Maxwell brought him here, stole him away from his home. Maxwell was not someone who should want to take care of him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson jumped up, realizing that he had accidentally let his guard down, getting distracted by the physical pleasure and forgot to keep himself alert. Maxwell was not his friend, not even close. He should not get this relaxed around the man.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"...I think you should go." he said coldly, wrapping his arms around his bare chest. Maxwell seemed confused, a little bit disappointed, but didn't say anything.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>A silence settled over them, swallowing any traces of the nice moment between the two, and the only thing that was left was Wilson's distrustful stare and Maxwell's unhappy one. Eventually the older man stood up as well and dusted his suit.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I see." the man sighed in a dour voice and didn't even give Wilson a goodbye when he left.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson stared after him, telling himself that he had just gotten a little bit carried away and it was for the best that the man would leave, this was what he wanted. He couldn't let Maxwell get into his head, and he definitely was not feeling weirdly lonely being left standing alone in his camp without a word.</em>
</p>
<p><br/>---</p>
<p><br/>"Would you like to dance with me?"</p>
<p>Maxwell barely batted an eye. Ah yes, dancing, that sounds like a great and not-at-all painful thing to do when you have a broken rib, your wrist ache, and your whole upper body is bruised up to the extend of being more bruise than skin.</p>
<p>"Would it matter if I said no?" the man sighed, and immediately the cold lips pecked a fast kiss on his cheek.</p>
<p>"You're so funny, pet. Come on. It'll be fun." Wilson laughed. The sound hurt hurt Maxwell's ears and he tried not to cringe. Even his laugh sounded so wrong.</p>
<p>He had no chance to refuse when the shadows picked him up. The man could only let the fast thought cross his mind that he was already getting used to the feeling of moved round by the shadows and it was  a bit alarming, but he didn't have time to let his mind lead him down that road when Wilson's slender body pressed to his chest, taking hold of his hand and waist and pulling him close.</p>
<p>Maxwell could tell even without seeing a thing that Wilson was held up by shadows as well, because the man simply wasn't tall enough to reach so easily to his level otherwise. It seemed to be something that Wilson liked to do often, to give him an impression of being taller than he was in reality. Maxwell didn't remember if he had ever really pointed out if he liked Wilson's short height or not, but it was apparently another sensitive subject to the man. Wilson had always tried puff himself up to seem like he was taller and bigger than he really was, for some reason. Maybe he just didn't realize himself that he already appeared much bigger than he was, especially with his beard and the muscle he was forced to develop in the living conditions he was in, but it seemed to still be a big deal to him whenever someone else was taller than him (which, to be fair, most of the people in Constant were).</p>
<p>Maxwell didn't dare to point that out, and instead just let the other man do what he wanted. It was his body after all, his choice to look like however he wanted.</p>
<p>There was a silent, a little bit off sounding music close by. It sounded like bunch of shadows trying to imitate the orchestra. To Maxwell it sounded like someone who had read about music, but never heard the actual sound in their entire life, and was now trying to desperately mimic it without any idea what they were doing.</p>
<p>It wasn't the tune that Maxwell had grown to hate with the fiery passion of thousand burning suns, thank god, but just simply hearing music someplace where there was no business being music at all was unnerving, unnatural and made him very uncomfortable. He didn't really care about music anymore, even in this choking loneliness he was grateful that at least it was the silence instead of music that created the atmosphere. Between the two options, he would forevermore choose the sweet, sweet silence.</p>
<p>"It's been a long time since I've danced with anyone," Wilson confessed when he placed his head on Maxwell's shoulder, sounding a little bit like his old self, a small bit of awkwardness in his voice "I'm sure you have much more experience than I do..."</p>
<p>Maxwell smiled faintly.</p>
<p>"You over-estimate my experiences in life, Hig... Uh, Wilson."</p>
<p>The shorter man hummed in thoughts as he started to move them to the beat of the music, waltzing, and Maxwell noticed that he, in fact, <em>wasn't</em> very good at it. At all. The tall man was quiet in thoughts. Compared to Wilson, who had spend majority of his adult years away from society playing with his little science in his house in the woods, everyone had more experience in any field than him, except with his science, of course. Maxwell supposed that it was fine, Wilson didn't seem to be particularly interested in culture or social events, so it was only to be expected that he was lacking a few skills that were often associated with social events full of other humans.</p>
<p>Maxwell let the other man, or rather the shadows that he controlled, lead them to the music slowly. There was no doubt that Wilson had become very good at controlling the shadows very quickly, which made Maxwell both worried and jealous. He would've applauded the man if he wasn't getting the sudden feeling that the one thing that he thought he was actually good at, he wasn't in reality very good at at all. It took him a way longer to learn how to use the shadows, when he started, and well... Maybe if he had been better at it, Charlie wouldn't be in here with him in the first place. </p>
<p>"I'm sure you were good at dancing, right? You're good at everything." Wilson spoke softly, admiringly. Maxwell didn't answer. He had nothing to say that would be worthy of continuing this empty conversation. The King didn't seem to mind, only breathing against his neck and giving him small kisses.</p>
<p>The quiet between them continued for a while, until the magician got slightly sick of listening to the music that barely even sounded like one, and let out a sigh.</p>
<p>"Wilson..." Maxwell started cautiously, swallowing empty air to collect some courage "Can you give me back my book?"</p>
<p>He knew it was a risky game to ask it from Wilson, but in all the fairness, it was Maxwell's property. Wilson didn't even use it to anything, he didn't need it, he was able to use the shadows without any help as long as he was the King, so why keep it at all? Maxwell felt so vulnerable without it, hell, he felt vulnerable even with it, and he just really, <em>really</em> wanted it back to his possession as soon as possible.</p>
<p>"You don't need it, pet. It's better this way." Wilson gave him a short, calm answer. Maxwell frowned, not holding back the frustration in his voice when he spoke.</p>
<p>"It wouldn't hurt to hand it back to me, it's mine-"</p>
<p>Wilson just laughed at him like he was ludicrous, raising his head up to land a small kiss on his chin in a sickly sweet, condescending way.</p>
<p>"Oh, but it would. It ruined your life, gave you nothing in return but hurt and pain, over and over. The only good thing it ever caused was bringing us together... Don't fret, I have it safely put away where it cannot hurt you anymore."</p>
<p>Wilson's claws pressed on Maxwell's back through his suit and he rose higher until he was approximately one head taller than the other man, and Maxwell could've sworn he saw a pair of glowing yellow pupils drilling into him for a second or two. It couldn't be, it was just his imagination, Wilson's eyes weren't even yellow. They were brown, whiskey-colored, soft light brown. At least they used to be.</p>
<p>"If you need something just ask me, and I will give you everything I can" The King purred through his sharp teeth to his pet and peppered kisses over his face. Maxwell groaned and tried to stop, but the shadows still moved both of them like puppets to the mockery of the music. How ironic, being the puppet master and getting handled like a puppet himself. Maxwell supposed that he deserved it, but he still twitched and moved in attempt to make the shadows let go of him. Wilson hardly paid any attention, lending him more affectionate touches and humming alongside the so-called music.</p>
<p>Maxwell was getting more and more frustrated, angry even.</p>
<p>"...If you'd give me everything you can, then give me Codex."</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>"Wilson-"</p>
<p>"NO."</p>
<p>Suddenly pair of arms were around Maxwell's shoulders, claws tearing into his skin and the magician felt the tip of the teeth over his lips and flinched back as far as the shadows let him.</p>
<p>"Let me correct myself, pet." the voice with barely withheld anger hissed against his mouth "I will give you everything I can <em>unless</em> it's bad for you." one hand let go of him, landing under his chin "You have gotten hurt so many times already, and I don't think you understand how bad it makes me feel when you are suffering... I know how to keep you safe, pet, nothing is ever gonna hurt you as long as you stay right here with me and let me take care of you. So please, please do not test my limits. I don't want to punish you, but I will."</p>
<p>Maxwell understood the threat and closed his mouth. He would like to heal from his current injuries first, even a little bit, before he would receive more as a result of poking some sensitive spot on Wilson's psyche. The man was practically impossible to reason with nowadays. What Wilson thought was for the best would always happen, and Maxwell could complain and argue all he wanted, but only if he could handle the consequences afterwards. They were often painful, it appeared.</p>
<p>Well, at least Wilson was not completely wrong. Codex Umbra was very dangerous item, especially in right hands, and unfortunately for Maxwell, it had proven to be very dangerous for him and those around him in <em>his</em> hands. But that was just the point, wasn't it? He had already ruined everything, it's not like he could cause any more harm with that book even if he tried to.</p>
<p>He just groaned in defeat and frustration and let Wilson dance away with his unmoving body, trying not to hear the music or feel the cold hands of the shadows.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Thoughts on the throne</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilson look inside himself and doesn't like what he sees.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The loud noise, like the drums of the doomsday teared the sky open, a light as bright as the fire swallowing the world and then spitting it out in a matter of seconds.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson jumped up in full panic when the loud banging startled him, the lights flashed in his eyes, and he was instantly up, heart beating like a drum, the nearest object to use as a weapon in his arms already, ready to defend himself. He didn't know what or why, but he was in danger, he was under an attack, and he didn't know what was attacking him, and it was so dark and he was all alone and helpless, he didn't remember if he had any armor-</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Shh, it's just a thunder, pet."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson swirled around and pointed his weapon (the fishing rod) at the owner of the voice, chest rising up and down in wild panic, pupils shrunk down in alert. It took him a good while of wildly glancing around and taking in the surrounding to realize that he was in his tent, and the voice had been right, it was just the thunder. There was no immediate danger, and nothing was out of place more than it usually was. The pieces started to fall in their own places, memories getting in line, mind clearing up from the alarm and dread.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>In his half-asleep, confused state the young man tried to remember if he had a lighting rod built, if he had something to secure his base from the lightning strike that could cause a wildfire, and he stood still for a while, mind empty, but trying so hard to get his thoughts in line again.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson took in a few deep breaths and didn't realize to resist the firm hands that wrapped around his shoulders, guiding him back to the fur roll and gently pushed him down, brushing his hair and muttering something in low voice The blanked was pulled over him up to his chest, and the warmth and softness eased his mind to the relative calmness.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson swallowed, pressing his cheek to the warmth of the fur roll, hearing his heartbeat against his chest. He was safe, he was okay. While the adrenaline slowly faded away and the exhaustion and sleepiness returned, the scientist absentmindedly reached to hold the hand in his hair and pulled it around himself, snuggling  it on his chest and curling to sleep around it, holding it tight.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It was so warm and comforting. The safety of someone else's presence, to not be alone in this place, put Wilson at ease, and he sighed through his sleepy mind in satisfaction of the touch. The man felt secure to hold the hand close to him, pressing it against himself like he was a child and it was his favorite plushie toy, needy and seeking it's mental comfort. He started to drift back to sleep now that he felt the fingers on his own, tangled together lazily.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There was a silence.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Then a quiet, amused and soft chuckle next to him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Sure, pal. I suppose I could stay for the night."</em>
</p>
<p><br/>---</p>
<p><br/>Wilson pulled his hands higher, further, his whole body hurting from the effort. He could feel even his bones shaking when he tensed every muscle in his body to fight against the throne's grasp, bringing every ounce of power he had left to refuse the shadows that trapped him into that horrible seat.</p>
<p>He had to break free, he couldn't take it anymore. The whispers, the thoughts, the pain... It was all so much, too much for the one man to take. There was nothing and everything at the same time, swirled together in one mess of madness, it was inside his head, he knew he shouldn't listen to <em>Them</em>, he knew he should fight it and he should keep hold of his morals and reason and<em> fight</em>.</p>
<p>Wilson exhaled, and that was enough to break his concentration for the shortest, smallest second, and it was over. The shadows snatched him back, his back hitting against the throne with a loud thud.</p>
<p>Hopeless. It was <em>hopeless.</em></p>
<p>Why did Maxwell let him do this? Why didn't he warn him?! If Wilson had known what would happen when he put the key into the lock, he wouldn't have-</p>
<p>...But then again, wouldn't he? Wouldn't he still do it? It was his choice, all his own. He wanted to free Maxwell and do everything he could so they could leave together, so they could be free, be together where neither of them would be held hostage on the throne. This was not Maxwell's fault, it was his own.</p>
<p>Wilson found it hard to breath. Every single second on the throne had been torture to him, and he was so scared and tired and bored and angry, he wanted to take it out on someone and he wanted to be free, somewhere else, he wanted to do something else than sit here, he wanted to feel something other than the endless shadows and void and listen to the simple silence for once!</p>
<p>But he just sunk deeper into the throne, tired of fighting, tired to refuse. He had grown much stronger in the Constant, forced to build up some muscle with never-ending chores and tasks he had to do in order to survive, but his physical strength had never been his driving force. It was his mind. He knew he wasn't the smartest, he knew he wasn't the best scientist, but he also knew he was determined and level-headed. He wouldn't let <em>Them</em> use him the same way <em>They</em> used Maxwell.</p>
<p>Letting out a weary sigh, Wilson cracked his eyes open and stared at his feet, tightly held down by the shadows. He had a feeling that <em>They</em> were already using him. He had dreams, he had... he had very vivid visions, so real and so concrete he knew they weren't just visions, he knew there was more to it. And he feared them, because in the visions he let his darker feelings rule over the logic and manners, he let his wants run free and didn't even care.</p>
<p>And what scared him more than anything else was that he <em>liked it</em>. He <em>liked</em> that he didn't have to apologize, he <em>liked</em> that he had the upper hand in every twist and turn, and he could just take whatever he wanted and whenever he wanted, because for the first time in his life he wasn't being overlooked by everyone else.</p>
<p>And as much as he didn't want to really be that person, he had scared himself by realizing that he found himself missing him, missing to have the power and knowledge, missing to be free and in control. He almost wanted that, and it terrified him.</p>
<p>Had Maxwell felt similar feelings in here? Had he constantly been fighting <em>Their</em> whispers away, trying not to believe a word, trying to keep reminding himself that he wasn't what <em>They</em> told him to be, he wasn't going to let them shape and mold him to be what <em>They</em> wanted? Had he been failing at it like Wilson did? Maybe he, too, found it hard to control himself at first, hard to grasp the sense of self inside and not let the shadows flow through him like a river that washed away everything else that had been there.</p>
<p>Wilson sunk down, the shadows behind his back giving a way to let the throne hold him closer, welcoming and comforting like a mother. <em>His mother was never there for him when he needed to be held (boys don't cry, Wilson).</em> He was so tired of fighting. He wanted to get away from here but he saw no way out, and he was so afraid that he'd be stuck here until he completely forgot who he really was and why he had sat on the throne in the first place.</p>
<p>He was so, so tired and so scared. </p>
<p>He just wanted to help Maxwell. He wanted to free him, again, wanted to let him know that he loved him and he would find a way for both of them to leave this god forsaken world, together, but every time he managed to leave the throne, to project his body away, he couldn't help but let the awful, terrible, yet so very <em>wonderful</em>, scary feelings take over him. It was too good to resist, too good to refuse. He could forget the restrains over his skin, he could forget the cold, hard throne, and just let himself feel the control and power.</p>
<p>He had never been in control of anything in his life. When he looked back, he only saw series of failures, even as he tried his best, truly gave everything he got to give, he still ended up failing, crashing down in flames and left to bare the shame alone <em>(hah, father was right, he really wasn't cut out to be a scientist).</em></p>
<p>But in here, in this new role, he could do no wrong. Everything was his to play with as he pleased and it was alluring to know that whatever he did, whatever he faced, he was invincible. He was above everything and everyone else. It made him frown in shame when he realized that the the thoughts actually made him feel good, made him feel stronger and braver. They were heady, almost dizzy feelings, as if he was getting drunk from them as soon as his body started feeling.</p>
<p>And Wilson knew that the feelings weren't foreign or external, either. No, they were still very much all his own, the thoughts, the wants and desires that would never, under any other circumstances, break free and grow to the extent that they did.</p>
<p>It was normal to feel like that, he supposed. Everyone had those kinds of a secret, dark, forbidden feelings inside them. But most of the time people just didn't act up on them, and the feelings weren't strong enough to control over the other, sensible and good and normal emotions, staying under control and hidden away where they belonged.</p>
<p>But now something was pulling those feelings out of Wilson, surfacing them for him to see, covering his eyes with the images of what he wanted, filling his ears with the memories that he feared, and he was a weak fool, taking the bait without a second thought because now he had means and ways to get what he wanted.</p>
<p>It made him scared.</p>
<p>It felt so good.</p>
<p>And it wasn't right, it wasn't the right thing to do. Yet he didn't refuse.</p>
<p>The throne held him like a treasure, shadows flowing over his body like loving, caring arms, covering him inside. False promises, false comfort and false power, it was all <em>They</em> had to offer, and Wilson wanted none of it. He winced and stood up, only to get pulled back down again. Not that he was expecting anything else to happen, he knew that his efforts of escaping were futile. He could do nothing but sit here and wait. Wait for someone like him to reach the place and obliviously put the key inside the lock and replace him. If that was the only thing he could do to escape, he had to do it. He had to find the way to leave this throne, he couldn't take this much longer... And he was afraid that Maxwell couldn't either.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Maxwell isn't handling his situation well, and decides to take matters on his own hands again.</p><p>WARNINGS: Suicidal thoughts.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"What kind of family did you have?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maxwell turned around to stare at Wilson, face in frown and eyebrow lifted. The shorter man shrugged and continued "I mean, you told me the girl, uh, what was her name..."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Wendy."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yes, Wendy, thank you. She is your niece, right? So that means you have siblings. But you never talk about your past to me." Wilson asked, purely out of curiosity, because he was so fascinated over the Shadow King and how he came to be here, how he came to be the King, and over the simple realization that if Maxwell came here from earth too he had a past that lead to all of this. And Wilson just couldn't stop thinking about it sometimes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His answer was a dour scowl, and Maxwell turned away scoffing "My past isn't something that we need to discuss in any way, shape or form. Be glad that you even know I have a niece."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson pouted. He was pretty certain he deserved to know something about Maxwell as much as Maxwell knew about him, it shouldn't be so big of a deal to answer a simple question. Unless, of course, it was a sensitive subject. Some people didn't have nice families, some didn't have families at all. Wilson knew for a fact that Willow was raised in an an orphanage and judging by the way she talked about it, it was not a nice place to grow up in.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson's attention was pulled elsewhere when Maxwell suddenly brushed his neck hair lightly, sending a small set of shivers up in the scientist's spine, and leaned to hum into his ear.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'd rather hear about your family. Must've been a bunch of ungrateful jerks if you'd rather live alone in the woods than keep in contact with them."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson knew Maxwell was trying to change the subject, and not even subtly, and he glanced down. Did he want to take the bait? It was sort of freeing to get to rant about his parents to someone for how long his heart desired, even more so when that someone genuinely wanted to listen to him. And who knew, maybe he could manage to trick Maxwell into saying something about himself too. He decided to take the bait, it wouldn't hurt anyone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Boy, were they. You should've heard the never-ending complaining when I wasn't  getting married to the first woman they introduced me to, or when I wanted to go study my science instead of getting into the business world like my father..."</em>
</p><p><br/>
---</p><p><br/>
Maxwell still felt cold. Breathing still hurt, speaking still hurt, and god almighty, trying to move still hurt. Well, pain was relative, but the man was sure that if he asked, everyone would agree that this much pain was simply unbearable no matter how you measured it. And he was so, so cold. He suspected that it might've been his own imagination, he hoped it was, but the more he thought about it, the more likely it sounded that there was possibly an unnoticed  injury somewhere, internal bleeding perhaps, and he was getting cold because his body started to dysfunction. He just hoped that it wouldn't be so life-threatening that it would be his undoing. Not that he could do anything about it anyway.</p><p>When he laid there in the darkness, he would sometimes feel himself drifting somewhere, from memories to delusions and then back into what he suspected was the reality. In the unnatural darkness he couldn't always tell if he had been there for days, or weeks or <em>years</em> even, and he would've given almost anything to see something else than the black, to hear something other than the shadows, to feel something that wasn't the chains on his hands, the floor, ground (whatever it was he was laying on!), and Wilson. Just Wilson, <em>only Wilson</em>, the one thing that brought even a little change to this dull and suffocating emptiness.</p><p>Sometimes, if he laid still long enough, he was sure he could feel himself starting to move, like the darkness had turned into an ocean and was drifting him somewhere, the waves carrying him gently and effortlessly like a leaf. Of course he wasn't really moving anywhere, but he entertained that idea sometimes. When there was nothing else around him, he had started to hope for any kind of distraction to tear his mind away.</p><p>The ground wasn't the most comfortable bed, but he had gotten used to it by now, as much as he could in order to get any type of comfort he'd manage to find. He tried not to think anything pleasurable or nice here, it only made him realize how sad and pathetic his situation was. It was better to keep hold of reality and keep his feet on the ground, not let his hopes up like an imbecile and then get down when his situation would, most likely, only get worse.</p><p>Still, curse his traitorous mind, Maxwell would occasionally catch himself dreaming about something better, something that made him feel warm and good for a fleeting second. Something like Wilson. The way he got over-enthusiastic with his science antics, his way of always finding the dumbest silver lining in horrible situations, and how he somehow still managed to get down and depressed over the smallest adversities possible. His grin and his voice. His touch. His weird habit of wanting to be alone, but still getting lonely when he was alone and how his face lit up when Maxwell came to see him.</p><p>Wilson used to make him more comfortable being himself than he ever thought he could feel in his own skin. Wilson had a good heart. A crushing feeling grasped his chest as he let out a sad breath, and this time the pain wasn't physical. People like that were like a treat to <em>Them</em>, a heart so good and kind was almost asking to be corrupted. Wilson never stood a chance, and every day Maxwell felt more and more regret over his decision to tell him about the throne, of himself being unable to leave. He should've known better than to let Wilson have any ideas of his rescue, not to send himself on the doomed journey with only one possible outcome, and perhaps this was the price he paid for that. He let Wilson ruin himself, led a lamb straight to slaughter, and could do nothing about it.</p><p>Maxwell shook the thought away. <em>Don't think about it</em>. Wilson was gone, and there was no use of crying after him anymore. He had this new Wilson now, it was all he could get, and whether or not he liked or wanted it, he had no choice but to take him. The man let his thoughts wander elsewhere to escape the strangling of the guilt.</p><p>His mind found it's way around someplace else, outside on the board. He missed the sun as fake as it was, he missed the wind and grass and the smell of flowers. He missed the buzzing of the bees, he even missed the barking of the hounds, missed the deep groans of the deerclops as the giant arrived to destroy anything in it's path. He hadn't had the displeasure to meet the cyclops in person yet, but now he almost wished he had the chance. He missed the opportunity to do anything at anytime. The moment of freedom he had been granted with had been short, but he had waited for it for so, so long time that everything in the world had hit him with the new kind of sensation, excitement and feeling of being his own man again overflowing for days. That feeling had left a memory in him, a feeling he could almost touch but was afraid to in fear of destroying any hope he had left.</p><p>He let it go, mind moving to someplace entirely different.</p><p>Alongside with some old and dusty, suppressed memoirs. He missed things he didn't remember well anymore, things far in the past. The painful bruises, broken glasses from the time when he was just a little kid, when Jack wasn't playing fair. That devil of a brother, Maxwell missed his stupid face.</p><p>He missed the smoke of the chimneys, seedy bars on the back alleys where he felt out of place and weak, the rain hitting the sidewalk and soaking his shoes through and through, and he missed the noise of the cars, the seats of train carriages, the empty hall that he hoped would be filled with people someday, the chatter in the full room where he could feel the stares at his skin because he wasn't used to being liked.</p><p>Maxwell tried to led his thoughts away from those things too, but everywhere his mind ended up in, he realized wasn't a good place to be.</p><p>He missed things. Any things. Anything at all.</p><p>Anything than the darkness where the only thing he could feel and hear and smell was the King who visited him when he pleased, very irregularly, often only leaving him anxious and hurt, even more lonely than he was before. But it was the only thing he had. The only thing that felt real, the only thing that kept him alive whether he liked it or not.</p><p>Maxwell couldn't tell what time of the day, month or year it was. He could not tell if there was anything besides him in this dark place, if it had walls or if it just went on forever. He couldn't tell if some voices he heard were really there or just in his own head.</p><p>No, the only real thing he could be sure about was Wilson. The only thing that was real to touch, whose voice was concrete and clear, the one person who kept reminding him that he was still real, that he hadn't turned into a shadow himself, not to a distant memory of someone he had previously been. Wilson was the only thing that existed to him anymore.</p><p>Maxwell could still vividly remember the throne, every heavy, weighting, strangling second sitting on it. He recalled all the horrible things it made him feel, all the pain and fear and confusion, the abrasions over his skin and the rugged, shred clothes, the stress and grief and age draining him empty moment after moment in the never-ending loop of suffering.</p><p>And it was the last thing he missed in the entire universe. But <em>at least</em> he could escape from it the small moments at time, at least <em>They</em> were there to whisper fake compliments and keep him company. At least he existed, at least he was something.</p><p>He didn't know if he existed anymore. It had been so long since he had seen anything, since he had spoken to someone else than Wilson, since he had been able to touch something else than the ground he was laying on. Maybe he was already dead. Maybe this was some dying dream he was having. Or perhaps he had already simply ceased to be all together, every fiber in his body disappeared into the void, is body destroyed until there was nothing left, and now his mind was the only thing left, stuck in some empty memory of his existence.</p><p>But there was pain, and it reminded him that he was alive, somewhere, somehow. How or why in this darkness Charlie didn't attack him or even appear, he didn't know, but it somewhat concerned him, and he wished she was here to end his suffering. The fact that she didn't, meant that this was not the place she either could or dared to venture in, and it mean that there was something even more wrong than usually. It could also be possible that Wilson had something here to protect him. Or then Charlie just really hated him so much that she wanted him to suffer here and didn't care to even cut his life short to free him. But it was all a speculation, he just couldn't be sure. That was probably the worst thing of all. He could never be <em>sure</em> about <em>anything</em>.</p><p>Maxwell let out a shuddering breath, trying his best to ignore the burning in his chest (despite the fact that rest of him was still cold), and opened his eyes - if he had even closed them at all - and stared into the black.</p><p>He had never wanted death so much in his life. Well, maybe on the throne, but this time was a very close second, which in of itself spoke volumes of his current state. He was freed from one prison to be send straight to another one. Sure there had been that sweet, short moment when he had the taste of freedom, when he woke up in the Constant, realized that he was really outside, really free from the shadows tight grasp and really able to leave.</p><p>But it didn't last long. Few days, maybe a week or two, he couldn't remember anymore. It felt so distant, like it had been just a dream. But even getting that short moment of relief did nothing to help his mind here. It only ever made this so much worse to handle. He was given the taste but it had been taken away before he could get enough to satisfy his hunger for it, before he could even have a proper break to just breathe, before he had enough time to even realize what he had until it was pried away from him.</p><p>Cruelty of the freedom that had been shown to him, only to be locked away yet again, send him spiraling down to the similar state he used to be on the throne. Just desperation for freedom, the depression hanging his head down, grief, want, so much want to have things that were real and new and gentle and kind. He wanted nothing so much than to be free again. Even for just a one short moment, he would give his left arm to be free. Even in the world of Constant he would be much better off than here.</p><p>Maxwell blinked, slowly. If he stared at the one spot a moment long enough, he would start seeing eyes, countless amounts of them, blinking back, and the dark would start shaping and shifting and he knew it couldn't be real, but it was taking a form and it was having different colors, even if it never changed, it somehow still did.</p><p>He blinked yet again, until he tiredly closed his eyes.</p><p>He knew <em>They</em> were not watching him. He had been boring them for a long time now, a sucked dry, empty drained shell of a person wasn't much entertainment for anyone. Until Wilson took the throne, and suddenly <em>Their</em> attention was on him again, oh what a fun it was to watch him being handled such a way by the new King... But then <em>They</em> got bored again. He just didn't have what he used to, he supposed. Someone who was better suited for <em>Their</em> game was taking away their eyes, their whispers, be it Wilson or one of the pawns.</p><p>Maxwell should've felt relieved, glad that <em>They</em> were giving him the small sense of privacy, if he hadn't felt so jealous because of it. Really, he felt ashamed that he was behaving like a sibling being outshined by the other one. He didn't want that attention, but now that it had been taken away, given to someone who deserved it more, he felt suddenly very lonely and <em>now</em> he wanted that attention, <em>now</em> he wanted to be praised and complimented with empty words and condescending voices. He wanted that back, he didn't want to be alone, he didn't want to be left behind.</p><p>Maxwell clenched and unclenched his fists. He couldn't find the way out of here on his own, and he knew Wilson wouldn't let him go even if he begged his heart out. But maybe, if he was very lucky, he would die. Maybe if he died, he could woke up in Constant, in front of the portal, like the survivors did? Or perhaps he'd turn into a ghost instead, and maybe he'd have enough time to wander around until he found a touchstone.</p><p>Maxwell started to knock his fingers on the ground, or floor, whatever it actually was. He could do it. That would be a good way to escape, and if he couldn't be revived and died permanently... He would be okay with that too, favor it even.</p><p>Sure, he knew he dreaded the pain, he knew he had to make it quick if he wanted to go through with it. And he had to do it before Wilson found out, the current King would never let him do it if he knew.</p><p>Maxwell bit his lip. Wilson didn't notice how terrible this was for him, didn't care about it, so he surely wouldn't notice if he tried to end himself before it would, hopefully, be too late.</p><p>The magician could feel the shadows thickening in the darkness around him, curiously moving around one another, sensing something was happening. Oh, how they loved when things were happening, preferably something unexpected and horrible. For them, for Wilson, it might be horrible, but for Maxwell it wasn't. He suddenly saw a way out of his prison cell, a new possibility to escape. It was so tempting, a way too promising to not think about. It called him like a soft, deep sleep after a weeks of traveling, calling him to rest his head, rest his feet and back for a while. He didn't want to resist the call, and he was so ready for that sleep that would either end him altogether or let him born anew, someplace else.</p><p>He just had to be quick.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. To keep you safe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After Maxwell tries to end himself, Wilson starts to panic and handles the situation in his own way.</p><p>WARNINGS: Violence on the fingers, blood, suicide attempt.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Wilson hissed through his teeth when the needle (or the closest thing to one) went in and out of his skin when the other man stitched his back.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Can you, just for a one day, do me a favor and stay out of trouble?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson had to laugh at Maxwell's complaining. He could stay out of trouble, but the problem was that this whole damn place was trouble and he was very much stuck in it. It was not as if he had a choice on the matter.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Don't you laugh at me, I'm serious" Maxwell snarled behind him and cut the string to finish the tending of his wound. Wilson didn't mean to do against his wishes, but he still burst out laughing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You- Y-you" he said between the laughter "You have to admit that it's kind of ironic that you are worrying about me getting hurt when it was you who took me in this hellscape in the first place." Maxwell did not admit it, instead swirled the man around and grabbed his chin.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"This is no laughing matter, Higgsbury. You could've gotten seriously hurt." Maxwell's voice was low and dangerous, almost threatening. Wilson leaned back, his grin withering only a bit. It didn't make Maxwell any less annoyed "Don't give me that grin, there is nothing funny about this!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I didn't know you cared, Maxwell" Wilson tried his luck, and was very pleased to notice how the crimson color rose over the older man's face. The man stared at him for a while and huffed, turning his head away. Wilson's unruly grin faded into a soft smile. Maxwell had started to care about him more than he used to, more than he was supposed to... And Wilson would've lied if he claimed he hadn't started to like it. The scientist just touched the cheek of the Nightmare King gently, and as the man turned to give him a questioning look he leaned forward and softly pushed his lips on the other man's own.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He had wanted to do this for a while now.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When he pulled away he was already prepared for a reaction, but he was not ready for the face that Maxwell made. The King just stared, lips apart and eyes wide open, the color on his cheeks much deeper and stronger. There was a short moment when he could sense something different. Something changing, like the veil was lifted away and Maxwell was, for a second, just himself, too confused and too taken aback to be the King he usually was.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I..." Maxwell rose his hand over his mouth and looked away nervously "I have to go."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson opened his mouth in sudden regret to ask him to wait, to explain that he was sorry and he didn't mean to make him so uncomfortable, but just like that the man had disappeared and left him to sit alone, only the flame of the firepit to keep him company.</em>
</p><p><br/>
---</p><p><br/>
Wilson manifested into the cage, pitch black and perfect as the purest obsidian, but much, much better in his opinion. He had built this to protect his pet, the first thing he did after he realized that Maxwell had not died when he crumbled down into the bones and turned to dust, blowing away like he had never existed at all. Wilson shuddered. He still remembered how he felt back then. How the relief and happiness he felt of seeing the man he came to rescue to be let go, standing in front of him with the expression of pure disbelief and bliss, to be turned into the sensation of terror and alarm, desperation when the man fell on his knees and died.</p><p>Wilson didn't even have time to process what just happened before his very eyes, didn't have time to grief or react as <em>They</em> snatched him away, placed him on the throne and made him <em>Their</em> new King.</p><p>And how indescribably happy he had been when he first saw the man wandering around the board, alive and well. That was when he decided that nothing would ever take Maxwell away from him again, he couldn't go through of losing his love the second time. Not ever again. So he built the chamber where he'd stay, always safe and always close, forever. </p><p>And it was large and dark, so he had room and could rest his eyes, and nothing could find him there, nothing could hurt him, nothing could take him away. It was safe. Sure Wilson had needed to do some adjustments and changes at first. As much as he knew that Maxwell liked nice and fancy things, he couldn't possibly bring anything in here from outside and had decided that anything at all was a safety hazard. Everything else than shadows got to go.</p><p>It made him a bit sad that he needed to put Maxwell in chains, and as unfortunate as that little restriction was, it was very necessary too. His poor pet just didn't know what was best for him, and Wilson had to make it absolutely sure that he stayed put and still and here.</p><p>The King hummed when he walked into the room, a little bowl of salve in his hands. Maxwell had been in pain, and even though it was clearly his own fault, Wilson was getting tired of his whining. So he was gonna do something very good and very nice to him today and help him heal, because Maxwell was so obviously incapable of taking care of himself on his own. He needed Wilson so much, poor thing, Wilson would give him the healing salve and everything would be fine. Maxwell would be grateful and praise him for his kindness and then they would keep on being together and happy like he wanted.</p><p>"You must've been lonely without me here." he greeted as he walked closer "I'm here now, and I have a present for you-"</p><p>The salve dropped on the ground as Wilson froze in place.</p><p>Maxwell had his hands on his throat, gurgling sounds leaving his mouth when he breathed, tried to breath, and his fingers were red, there was skin underneath his nails that were on his throat, clawing it open. In a blink of an eye Wilson was kneeling beside him, tearing his hands, his horrible, horrible hands away from his neck. Maxwell flinched and made a noise, but it went unheard as Wilson held him down, staring at the scratches on his throat.</p><p>No, why... Why, why would his pet do this? He was hurt, oh no why was he hurt, don't take him away from Wilson, why, why why why did this have to happen, who hurt him, who-</p><p>Wilson bit his teeth together and glared Maxwell's hands.</p><p>"... You can't do things like this, pet... You are going to get hurt, oh what would you do without me, poor pet... So hurt without me, hurt and lost and so sad when I am not here keeping you safe, poor dear pet, you did this because you were lonely, didn't you? You needed me here so badly you did this... Oh no, no... this won't do..." Wilson babbled in high-pitched, giddy tone, staring at Maxwell's hands, his fingers, his nails...</p><p>The shadow King's eyes narrowed into the thin streaks. His nails, his nails that had been scratching his throat. Hurt him, could've killed him, taken him away, away from Wilson. He wouldn't have that, he wouldn't let Maxwell be taken away from him, Wilson could not - <em>will not</em> - lose him, he would die, he would die without Maxwell oh what would he do if he lost him <em>what would he do</em>-</p><p>"I am here pet, shh, it's okay now" he spoke more to himself, looking away from the treacherous nails to Maxwell's bleeding throat. He had to stop the bleeding first. Keep yourself together Wilson, be a man, you're the King now, you can't fall apart like this now, Maxwell needs you, he need your help.</p><p>With the move of his hand the shadows brought the bowl of salve over, and Wilson leaned down to inspect the damage better while the shadows kept Maxwell as still as they could, pulling his arms away from his throat. Oh, he was so lucky that Maxwell hadn't been able to use his shadow magic here, his human-nails were not strong enough to tear his throat open unlike the dark, shadowy claws he got from all the nightmare fuel and shadows. As sharp as his nails were, they weren't able to break the skin deep enough to catch the major blood vessels.</p><p>Wilson smiled with a frantic, borderline insane little laugh, and leaned down to kiss his pet's neck, licking away the blood and hushing Maxwell softly as he did.</p><p>"Please" his pet whispered weakly, his chest moving fastly as he took in shallow breaths and his heart beat like a drum. Wilson leaned away, licking his lips and finally adding salve over the injured skin of the other man's neck. Maxwell hissed, struggled to get away, and Wilson leaned down to kiss his lips lightly.</p><p>"You can't do that to me, pet. You know I don't want anything like this ever happening to you. I can't let anything to ever take you away from me, never, ever." he muttered, a dangerous tone on his voice. This was a problem. A huge, enormous problem that needed to be taken care of immediately. Maxwell was his, his treasure, his love, his only one. What would Wilson do if he lost Maxwell? Who would he live for, what would he live for? Who would need him, who would want him, who would see him, really see him as he was, who, if not Maxwell, then who? His pet, his life, the only one who understood, cared enough to understand, cared, cared about Wilson. His Maxwell. His. He had nobody else who he could be sure about, nobody else who he could trust to not leave him behind.</p><p>Wilson watched as the soft strands of shadows wrapped over the wounds, curling over Maxwell's skin like bandages, sheltering the hurt area. Shadows would serve the purpose as good as any other bonds, and because they were Wilson's to command, he didn't have to fear that Maxwell would somehow get them off.</p><p>"There, isn't that better? That is <em>so much</em> better" Wilson stroked Maxwell's hair and the man winched, desperate look on his face, almost pitifully wheezing the air in. Poor Maxwell, he was so helpless without Wilson. What would he do without his Wilson? Poor Maxwell. Wilson would take care of him, tend his wounds, kiss away his tears, he would make sure nothing could hurt his pet, nothing.</p><p>He sat there for a little while, running his fingers through Maxwell's thin streaks of hair, until he eventually turned his attention to the man's hands. His pupils shrunk and he felt a pulse in his chest growing louder.</p><p>"I will make sure nothing will hurt you anymore, pet." Wilson told his lover and held his hand before himself, watching as shadows swirled over his palm, searching for a form, molding themselves like a soft wax, until the King was holding pair of pliers on his claws.</p><p>He took Maxwell's hand on his own and gave it a kiss.</p><p>Maxwell didn't react at first, but when the chains on his wrist tightened and more shadows manifested around him to keep him still, he seemed panicked, opening his eyes wide and sucking in a shuddering, sharp inhale.</p><p>"Shh, pet, it's all going to be fine. Be still and it will be over faster than you know." Wilson placed another quick kiss on the palm of his pet's cold hand before grasping it tight, taking a nail between the pliers.</p><p>He yanked.</p><p>The sound wasn't loud, but it was clear, the flesh ripping apart, the small part of the body tearing away from it's place and blood bursting out of the unprotected nail bed. Maxwell's scream filled the whole place, and in the brilliant cage that Wilson had built it didn't even echo, just filled every inch of space there was. The man started trashing and struggling, but the shadows only wrapped tighter around him.</p><p>Wilson gave hardly any notice to the blood or the flesh torn alongside the missing fingernail, let alone paid any attention to the other man's cries. Maxwell would understand later, he though, and pried another nail away from it's place, which earned another, equally as pain filled, terrified scream.</p><p>"This is for your own good, pet. I won't let anyone hurt you. Not even yourself. And these little guys here who destroyed your perfect, soft skin-" another nail dropped on the floor, and Wilson glanced coldly at Maxwell's teary, wide eyes "they gotta go now. We can't have anything in here that might hurt you. How else am I able to protect you, pet?"</p><p>Wilson hummed a small tune while ripping a nail after another from Maxwell's fingers, letting the man scream as loud as his bruised chest and his teared throat let him. Oh, their voices sounded so good together, it was like a music. Wilson had thought about it before, on one peaceful evening when Maxwell was fucking him hard and he had been very, very loud during it, listening his lover's heavy breathing on his neck. He remembered thinking so many times, as Maxwell was making him scream from the pure pleasure, how good Maxwell must sound when he screamed. And he sounded so, so beautiful. Their voices worked together so perfectly.</p><p>A perfect pair, that's what they were. Wilson was so happy they had met.</p><p>When the last fingernail bled between the bloodied, dirty pliers, Maxwell had finally stopped screaming, the voice muffled down to the sharp, quiet breaths, almost like sobs, his black eyes glossed over and staring straight up at the roof that he couldn't see. Wilson dropped his tool away and it disappeared into the air as it hit the floor, and the King bowed down to kiss the back of Maxwell's hand, gaining no reaction except for the faint, almost nonexistent shaking, and he let the shadows flow away from the older man.</p><p>"There. All better now."</p><p>Wilson let the remaining shadows pick Maxwell up and as the giant, soft chair appeared under them, he sat down and let Maxwell's body fall on his lap, even though he almost sunk under the other man. Maxwell fell over him like a rag doll, gritting his teeth, his fingers twitching as the man tried to keep them away from any contact. Wilson considered for a while, until he sighed in mild irritation and swirled his wrist, commanding the shadows to wrap over his fingers like bandages. There was no way it would get infected in here, but better safe than sorry. Maxwell let out a silent, almost a weep-like sound, and pulled his arms closer to his chest, uselessly trying to get away from the shadows that curled around his hands. Wilson just smiled at him, gently sweeping his knuckles over the man's chin.</p><p>"How about I tell you something about myself again? Would you like that, pet? Would that make you feel better?" Wilson run his claws on Maxwell's body, pushing his head on his face like a kitten. The only answer he got was a quiet inhale accompanied with a sob.</p><p>Wilson kissed Maxwell's temple and rested his head on his hair.</p><p>"So, the only member of my family that I actually liked was my grandfather..."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Call me by my name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilson has got enough of Maxwell not calling him by his first name, and decides to fix the issue.</p><p>WARNINGS: Violence, blood, noncon.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Wilson let out a sigh of immense relief and exhaustion when the deerclops finally let out a dying howl and fell down on the bloodied, frozen ground. The man stood still, shoulders rising and lowering in deep, tired pants, until he swallowed and bit his teeth together. He had gotten quite the beating, but miraculously had managed to avoid any huge injuries. He was sure getting better at this, which was a good thing he supposed, even if he had to admit it to himself that he did not like that he was getting used to live like a savage caveman and solve things with violence and kill or be killed -attitude.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man was just about to walk to inspect the lifeless giant, until there was an awkward cough behind him that made him halt.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Remind me not to make you angry if this is how you'd react, Higgsbury."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A small grin pulled the corner of his mouth before Wilson turned around and just rose an eyebrow "You haven't showed your face here for a while. I didn't think I'd see you before the next autumn."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maxwell looked only a bit sorry, and flashed him a teasing grin while walking closer to stand next to him, eyeing the corpse of the deerclops, a mildly impressed look on his face "Can't babysit you all year long. Missed me, pal?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Hardly, you bastard." Wilson chuckled, not nearly enough bite in his voice, and then let out a sigh and glanced at the man from the corner of his eye, face turning serious "... I wasn't sure if you'd come back at all, actually."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That seemed to make Maxwell a bit surprised, but the man didn't let it show for too long, only rising his brow questioningly. Wilson  bowed his head, biting his lip "You know... After I kissed you."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Oh, that." Maxwell muttered and hid his hands inside the pockets of his long wintercoat "I apologize if I made you worry. I needed to think for a while."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson nodded and turned his head away. He had been thinking, too. He hadn't realized when he had developed these feelings, but he had, and he had been panicking and worrying when Maxwell just left and didn't come back for half a year. He had rehearsed his apology, gone over some good points of why Maxwell should not kill him and how to make sure he understood that Wilson didn't mean to upset him, but when the time passed and the King just didn't come back to him, Wilson started to just miss him and get worried.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And now Maxwell was here. Standing next to him. And they were both shifting their positions silently, unnaturally quiet, air filled with things both wanted to say, but neither didn't know how to put to words. Then Wilson spoke.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"So, what have you been thinking?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You. And what comes after the kiss."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson's cheeks were already red from the cold, but now they started to seriously burn. He dared to take a step to turn to look at Maxwell properly. The man looked on his side, but eventually turned to face him back.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"...What would you want to come after it?" Wilson asked, carefully, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. Maxwell sighed and gave him a lopsided smile.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'm not sure if I want you to get too involved with me." the man stated bluntly, and Wilson face fell. Maxwell seemed to get upset from it, because he quickly rose his hand to cup the younger man's cheek and run his thumb over his bristle "Don't get me wrong, pet. I think we both want the same thing. But I fear what it will do to you if you get too close to me."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson placed his own hand over the magician's gloved one, and stared at him determinedly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I don't care. Whatever it's going to be, I want to try it."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maxwell looked at him, measuring him for a moment, as if to see if he was really up for the challenge, if he was being serious, until he sighed and let the grin find it's way on his face.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You really are the most stubborn and reckless man I've ever met, you know that?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson took a step closer and grabbed his coat, pushing his chest boldly against the other man "Shut up." he grinned and got on his toes, and felt the small tingly feeling run through his neck when the other man leaned down to meet his lips half-way.</em>
</p><p><br/>
---</p><p><br/>
Wilson stared at his hands like he would've seen them the first time in his life, his palms up, fingers crooked stiffly, shaking. He needed to <em>stop</em>. He couldn't take this anymore, his memory might've been hazy at times, but he knew very well what he had done.</p><p>He was disgusting. He was terrible. How could he do such a thing?!</p><p>Somebody needed to stop him, because whenever he tried, he lost himself to whatever horrible things <em>They</em> fed his mind, and he wanted to blame them, but it was a losing battle. <em>They</em> could manipulate and lie and promise, <em>They</em> could help and threaten and prompt, but<em> They</em> could not force him. Whatever he did, whatever dark desires crept in the deepest, coldest, grimmest pockets of his soul, was his fault and his alone.</p><p>He knew he had crossed the line a long time ago, the moment he had let <em>Them</em> in his head, let <em>Them</em> feed his fears. He had crossed the line, voluntarily stepped over it the second he had taken Maxwell with him, promising him that he knew what he was doing.</p><p>He did not. How could he even pretend he was on the right track when he thought that he was doing this for Maxwell to keep him safe, to make sure they could be together, by locking him away and...</p><p>Wilson cringed at the images flashing in his mind. He was doing this for himself. He was not trying to protect Maxwell, he was only trying to protect himself, like the pathetic, sad man that he was. He just wanted to keep Maxwell, just keep him to himself.</p><p>He had never been good enough. Never been praised, never been important. He could try to pretend that being sucked into the horrid world that was Constant was the worst thing to ever happen to him, but that was just not true. He was an outcast, a loner. Never been successful at anything he did, he didn't have a wife or children, he had no friends. He was a family disappointment, a failure at every aspect of his life.</p><p>But Maxwell saw something in him. He saw something that Wilson was just hoping, crying for someone to notice, wishing someone to understand him. Maxwell loved him, Maxwell didn't care what he had done or who he was, he loved him despite his wits and failures. He accepted him, he wanted him.</p><p>It was a new feeling for Wilson, to be wanted for who he was. He had never thought that there was something in him that someone could see as valuable, as even a second worth of their time, yet Maxwell was so interested, so intrigued, so fascinated over him. Maxwell was attracted to him, so eager to give Wilson his time and attention, to listen to him and touch him.</p><p>And Wilson knew that he was addicted to Maxwell, obsessed with the feeling of self-worth Maxwell gave him, to the praise and love, the need, the longing, everything. He needed Maxwell like he needed the air and water to survive, like he needed his heart and lungs to live.</p><p>And that was the real reason he kept Maxwell in his dark birdcage. Because he had always felt like he was nothing, and Maxwell had made him feel like he could be everything. And he was terrified to lose that, terrified to lose the only person who knew who he was, and<em> still</em> cared for him.</p><p>It was soul-crushing to realize how much of a bad person he was, and the throne gladly sucked every falling piece of his self-esteem and grew only stronger, and <em>They</em> sang to him about all the things he had done wrong in his life, and then oh so many great things he had yet to accomplish, how much glory he was destined to achieve, and the knowledge of the mind as brilliant as his could surely understand why he had the right to do whatever he needed to get to where he was always meant to go.</p><p>And Wilson closed his eyes to that comforting lie to keep himself sane for a moment longer. There was little else he could do now.</p><p>---</p><p>Maxwell wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep or just forgotten when he had sat on the chair, or when Wilson had moved away from him, but he could still hear the other man doing something in the darkness. Or perhaps he had gone away and then came back. Maxwell had been in so much pain that it seemed that he had passed out at some point, and who knows how long he was out of it.</p><p>The magician tried not to move. He didn't think it was possible to be in more pain than he already was in, but apparently, the world just really wanted to prove him wrong. His fingers felt numb, yet there was pain, pulsing like a heartbeat in every tip of his fingers, surrounded by a sticky, thick essence and the cold shadows over them.</p><p>The man cringed. He had been too slow. Of course he couldn't escape, he couldn't get away. Why had he ever even thought about something as bizarre as being free of this darkness? Being free of anything?? He couldn't be freed, he didn't belong to himself anymore, maybe he never had belonged to himself at all. He used to belong to <em>Them</em>. And now he belonged to Wilson.</p><p>Maxwell tried to swallow a lump in his throat down. Wilson had always been so gentle, he had been kind, he had been forgiving and fair. Maxwell didn't think he could miss someone so much who was still so close to him. He almost would've just preferred if Wilson had died instead. It might've been a cruel thought, but he knew how terrible it was to sit on the throne, so he consoled himself that maybe he just wished it more of Wilson's sake than his own.</p><p>His fingertips burned and Maxwell bit his lip, closing his eyes, trying not to think Wilson's stone cold voice at the very moment Maxwell realized what the King had been holding in his hands before the first fingernail was ripped away. He tried to banish Wilson's calm, satisfied words from his head, so impassive and uncaring of Maxwell's pain. But so soft and tender. So wrong.</p><p>He still wanted to believe Wilson was in there somewhere, that he could still be saved. There must've been a way, something to pull him away from the darkness, something to bring him back and tear him away from <em>Them</em>.</p><p>"All done now, pet~" the gleeful call sang from the darkness, and Maxwell couldn't find it in himself to be bothered to answer. Not that it mattered anyway, not to Wilson "I made something for you, would you like to see it?" the scientist asked with the ecstatic voice, clearly barely able to contain his excitement. Maxwell sighed.</p><p>"I can't see <em>anything</em> in here Higgsbury, you know I can't-"</p><p>Maxwell was yanked up and slammed against the floor with a force too great to be Wilson's own without the help of <em>Their</em> shadowy magic, and he was distantly aware of the blood that burst from his mouth as he tried to catch the breath that was beaten empty from his lungs.</p><p>"IT'S WILSON!" the King yelled with a voice that took over the whole atmosphere like a tempest, as dangerous and deadly as it was loud "MY NAME IS WILSON AND YOU WILL CALL ME LIKE A LOVER SHOULD AND USE MY FUCKING NAME!"</p><p>Maxwell crawled backwards, coughing and desperately trying to force his voice out to calm Wilson down. He had no idea if he was headed away from Wilson, but he was following an instinct to try to distance himself from the danger, just blindly backing away to get to the safe place.</p><p>"I'm s-sorry" he breathed out in panic, trying not to sound as scared as he actually was, trying not to care how it ached in his throat. All hope of Wilson's anger being short lived disappeared when Maxwell felt something curling around his leg and effortlessly pulling him back, until he came to a halt, and felt a shoe pressing over his chest.</p><p>"I am starting to get tired of your attitude, pet. I have done everything to keep you safe, I give you all the time I can and when you ask for something I do my best to grand your wishes..." the shoe pressed down, and Maxwell groaned in pain, his bruised chest aching under the weight.</p><p>"I don't believe I ask much from you, yet you still act like a spoiled, entitled little pet that you are, and I am starting to think you are not appreciating everything I'm doing for you."</p><p>The shoe stepped away from his chest, and soon the pair of hands pulled his face up, and Maxwell felt the breath on his nose.</p><p>"So come, pet, I will show you the gift I made just for you so you won't hurt yourself any further" the snarl got softer, a bit more understanding "...You poor thing, so needy for my attention that you would do such thoughtless things to get it..." But then again, Wilson only thought that he understood.</p><p>Maxwell winched when the shadows pulled him along and as he was thrown down, the man was fully expecting to land on the hard floor, but instead he sunk into something soft. He blinked, confused and still in alarmed state, trying to guess what he was placed on.</p><p>"Isn't it perfect? I made it from the nightmares, you love it, don't you?" Wilson hummed, sitting down next to him.</p><p>"What... what is it?" Maxwell dared to ask carefully, and Wilson giggled.</p><p>"It's a bed! You don't have to stay on the floor anymore." The scientist exclaimed with a happy voice, a little bit too happy for someone who had just tortured him. Maxwell was silent, if not just from a confusion of why Wilson would want to give him a bed <em>now</em>, then for a sake of keeping things from escalating so suddenly.</p><p>"I... uh... Thank you?"</p><p>Wilson hummed and pressed his head on Maxwell's shoulder, his sharp claws brushing his chest "I know I have been harsh on you lately, but I assure you it's only to keep you safe. You are too precious to me, pet, I just want you to be secure and safe here, where you don't need to worry about anything" it was disheartening how genuine Wilson's voice was, how he had managed to convince himself of his own kindness, that he was in his right mind for doing this. Maxwell sighed just swept his knuckles against the soft, slightly unreal surface that mimicked a bed. He didn't mind being a little more comfortable, but he feared what would happen if he got used to it. Nothing was as horrifying as being given something nice and then getting it ripped away - and Maxwell seriously doubted that anything nice in here was permanent even as a concept.</p><p>Suddenly he felt the hot breath on his ear when Wilson leaned closer to him.</p><p>"Do you like it? would you like to keep it?" the short man whispered, the shadows whispering alongside his own voice.</p><p>Maxwell just nodded slightly, because really, there wasn't much of a choice.</p><p>"Good! It's settled then, you will stay right here." Wilson hardly waited to finish his sentence when Maxwell already felt the shadows yank his wrist down, his head hitting the unnaturally flowing and soft pillows. Wilson huddled over him and leaned on his chest, giving his throat light kisses "Here, isn't it nice? I'm sure you will find it much more comfortable to stay here instead, soft and nice and no chance to getting hurt anymore."</p><p>Maxwell opened his mouth, starting to pull his hands away from the shadows, even though he knew it was in vain. He didn't need to see anything to know Wilson was smirking at him. The shorter man chuckled and pet his cheek.</p><p>"Oh no pet, you shouldn't try to get up... It's better to just stay put and let yourself be taken care of, that way I can make sure you are safe and sound. You can lay here and I will do everything for you. I've learned from my mistakes. No more moving around for you." Wilson laughed as if he had remembered something funny, as if this was somehow harmless. It was not, and Maxwell started to feel his breath getting shallow again.</p><p>"Wilson, let me go" he breathed out, quickly, almost afraid to say anything, mostly distracted by the sudden realization that he couldn't move an inch. At least on the floor he was able to sit up or stand or move around a bit, even if not by much, but now the chains on his arms didn't budge at all, even to let him get up from where his was laying down.</p><p>It was too much like being on the throne again, except that he had lost any amount of false control over the things he had as a King. On the throne he was at least able to pretend that he had some sort of power, some way to escape, to pretend he was somewhere else, get away from the dark and the whispers and he could always go to see Wilson, feel his warmth and hear his voice and it was the best form of escapism he ever had-</p><p>"Now why would you want to go somewhere?" Wilson laughed, running his claws over his cheek so tenderly.</p><p>Well, Wilson <em>used to</em> be his way to escape. Maxwell had truly lost everything he had, hadn't he? He had nothing anymore, not even Wilson.</p><p>"Wilson please, just let me-"</p><p>"Shh, it will be okay, pet. I promise I will visit you everyday and we can do all sort of fun things together" the scientist kissed his cheek and hummed in self-satisfied manner, which made Maxwell just grimace. There was not much he could do when he was chained down and couldn't see a damn thing, but that was never a problem for Wilson. Wilson's idea of fun was usually just talking and cuddling, sometimes having sex, but mostly he seemed to be completely unaware that Maxwell wasn't having that much fun being imprisoned here with nothing else than the whispering in the dark and Wilson oblivious ways to entertain him.</p><p>"That's not what the problem is, Wilson" Maxwell muttered, still mostly concentrating to fighting the shadows and just attempting to break free and god he just wished he'd be able to run from this place and Wilson and be anywhere else than here.</p><p>"Shh, there is no problem, pet, it's alright" Wilson just kept hushing him like it would actually comfort the older man.</p><p>"It's not alright Wilson just let me go, I- I need to get out" Maxwell pleaded, panic only slightly making it over in his voice. He hated being in the position where he would have to even think about begging, but he was reaching his limit if not already reached it. He just wanted something else, he needed anything else than the eternal darkness and the absolute emptiness around him, he would've given his arm for even an encounter with a monster, at least it would've been something instead of this continuing nothingness. At this point he just wanted to know he wasn't stuck in some horrible fever dream as his body was slowly dying somewhere. And the pain, he just wanted the pain to finally end. Wilson just laughed brightly, too brightly to sound genuine.</p><p>"But out there I can't keep you safe. You must understand that this is for your own good, pet, here I can make sure that nothing can take you away from me."</p><p>"Wilson, if you really care about me, then let me go, I can't do this, I- I can't... please I need to get away from you for a-" The sharp pain on his face - Wilson's claws gripping his cheeks, he realized - cut the words short and yanked him closer, so close that Maxwell could almost feel the snarl on Wilson's face.</p><p>"Now why would you say that?" Wilson wondered out loud with a dangerously collected voice, like he was concentrating really hard on keeping his cool "Why on earth would you want to get away from me, when I am treating you so well?"</p><p>Wilson sat over Maxwell and took his head between his hands, leaving sharp scratches on his chin "Aren't I being good to you? Aren't I giving you attention? Am I not pleasing you enough?"</p><p>Maxwell tried to turn his head away, gritting his teeth together, but Wilson was forcing him to face him, growing only more tense and unstable as he spoke.</p><p>"You just need more attention, is that it? Oh you poor thing, I have been so hard on you lately... You just need more love from me." his fingers caressed Maxwell's cheeks with shaky but firm movements now "We can fix that, pet, we can make you feel better... don't worry, soon you won't even think about leaving, I can make you all better~" Wilson crooned softly, if not a little bit anxiously. Maxwell tensed up when the younger man started kissing his face and his slender fingers dropped down to travel on his chest.</p><p>Wilson was tasting Maxwell's skin, breathing in his scent... he would fix this, he would make everything fine again. Maxwell just needed more affection, he was just sad that Wilson hadn't been giving him enough of his attention and love lately, that was it, that was why Maxwell thought he wanted to leave, he was just upset - he loved Wilson, he would never ever abandon him, he couldn't, Wilson could not handle it, he didn't want another person who he needed turning their back on him like he was nothing...</p><p>"It's okay, pet, I will show you how good I can be. You will remember why you wanted me in the first place, you will remember how much you love me..." he started talking, perhaps more to himself, but he needed to remind Maxwell why they were together, why he was needed and wanted and why Maxwell didn't want to leave him all alone. Maxwell moved uncomfortably under him, hissing in a sharp breath when Wilson grasped their fingers together - oh, right, his flesh was still sensitive to the touch on the spots where his nails used to be. No matter, it, too, would heal in time.</p><p>Wilson just kissed his neck and proceeded to undo his shirt with his vest and jacket, peppering kisses all over where his skin was exposed and dragging his sharp teeth on the surface, being careful not to break the bruised skin. Maxwell bit his teeth, his head turned on his side and pressing his eyes close, probably in pain, poor thing.</p><p>Wilson continued to wiggle his way down, rubbing his face on Maxwell, making sure there would be no chance that his pet would miss his gestures of affection, almost purring in sweet soft voice to make sure he came across as caring as possible.</p><p>"Wilson, please..." Maxwell breathed out when the young man started fondling his member through his suitpants "please just, let me leave-"</p><p>"Shh, pet, don't bother your head with such needless thoughts, just let me take care of you" Wilson answered with a low voice, pressing his whole body closer to Maxwell and licking his navel. The older man shivered. He just couldn't take this anymore, he just had to get away, he was so tired and he was in so much pain, drifting too far from the sanity already, being plagued by very unstable, definitely not healthy thought that any well-headed person shouldn't be thinking as often as he did.</p><p>Well, having nothing and getting nowhere had one good side; he had absolutely nothing in line and nothing to lose. Or if he had, he was too hurt and uncomfortable to think about it right now.</p><p>"Just let me go Higgsbury, you can't keep me here!" he managed to summon a demanding tone in his voice, and felt Wilson freezing for a second "You can't pretend that this is fine, you aren't doing this for me, you are doing this for yourself!" Maxwell spat between his teeth, desperately trying to grasp every little shred that remained of his ego and pride, and glared at where he supposed Wilson's face was. For a moment he almost thought he had gotten through to the man, when Wilson let go of his crotch and shifted, until his claws grabbed the band of his suitpants and yanked them down.</p><p>"<em>...It's Wilson.</em>" came the hissing whisper, and it was Maxwell's time to freeze up. The shorter man continued kissing his abdomen with much more force, his hands playing with the fabric of his underwear. Maxwell cringed and wiggled under the other man, trying to free himself, trying to shake Wilson away, his frustration and anger getting the best of him for a while.</p><p>"Is it?! Because you're certainly not acting the way Wilson does, <em>Higgsbury</em>."</p><p>All too quickly, in a blink of an eye Wilson had jolted up, sharp claws sinking into his shoulders, heaving heavy, shaking inhales when he pressed his fingers on the other man's skin. Maxwell bit his lip to fight back the scream.</p><p>"... How do I make myself clear to you, pet? You love me and you will call me by my first name. Now, I know you seem to have a  little bit of trouble remembering tha-" Wilson cut himself of, falling silent, which Maxwell did <em>not</em> like at all, not one bit. Then the pain disappeared when the hands pulled away from his skin, and soon Wilson spoke again, with his silky, terrifyingly kind voice "...We just got to make sure you remember it from now on, won't we? I have just the right solution to our little problem here."</p><p>Maxwell opened his mouth to ask what the hell did that mean, but he silenced himself when the sharp claw pressed on his bare chest, and Wilson clicked his tongue, thinking.</p><p>"Now, pet, Wilson is a fairly short name, it should be easy to learn." the claw tip tapped softly on his skin "First there is W..."</p><p>The claw sunk inside, burrowing into the flesh and skin, and slowly drew a line, drew a second, third, fourth, cutting deep inside every time. The man's skin broke easily under it, flesh torn apart and drawing blood. Maxwell bit his teeth together, muffled down scream escaping his throat when the crimson, a little crooked W cut into his flesh. Wilson smacked his mouth thoughtfully.</p><p>"Then there's I-"</p><p>Maxwell was grateful that the letter was only a one single line "Please Wilson, don't, don't do this-" he pleaded through his teeth.</p><p>"Now now, we have only started, pet." the King scolded him softly "The next one is L-"</p><p>It hurt even more, the bruises and damaged insides stinging, burning with every touch as more blood escaped, flooded out into small puddles on his chest when another two cuts were clawed on his skin.</p><p>"S."</p><p>"I, I know how it's spelled, I won't call you Higgsbury anymore I promise-"</p><p>"Hush. I'm trying to draw O, I need to concentrate..."</p><p>He did concentrate, and it was slow, so slow and it hurt hurt hurt <em>hurt</em>-</p><p>"Now, you said you know how it's spelled," Wilson leaned down, bringing his cold lips, curled into a twisted grin, to other man's ear "What's the last letter, pet?"</p><p>Maxwell thrust his eyes close tightly. He felt cold, he felt hurt, he felt betrayed, he felt like screaming and crying but what good it would do in here, what good it would do if nobody could even hear him...</p><p>"I'm waiting. I'd hate to write it wrong and start from the beginning. Then we'd have to cross out the wrong one, too..."</p><p>It was a threath enough to make Maxwell sputter out the weak N from his mouth, trying to keep his breath steady but failing, trying to keep his head on his shoulders because he felt like he was not right there, not fully, he hurt and he couldn't see and he missed Wilson and he wanted to stop hurting...</p><p>"There. Oh I wish you could see how pretty my name looks on your skin."</p><p>Wilson stopped to admire his work on his beautiful pet. It was almost like a tattoo. As a gentleman he had rarely seen any, only on a few shady looking, suspicious stray people, like on the sailors or people he supposed to be criminals. But the idea sort of fascinated him. To like something so much you wanted to make it eternal part of yourself, scar it into your body as a mark, as a love letter to something, perhaps someone. He had heard that many people took tattoos to honor their mother or lovers, some had symbols, secret vows with the meaning hidden from everyone else than the one's that made them. It was almost like poetry.</p><p>Wilson felt his heart beating, burning inside him, and he leaned down to kiss the blood smeared, brightly glistening chest of his love, of his perfect, perfect Maxwell, his treasure, his precious beloved. His pet. His. His forever.</p><p>"Now you can remember what my name is when you feel it on your skin. I can't wait to hear you moaning it into my ear" The King purred softly and let his hands wander back to the other man's crotch "I can't wait, pet~"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>At this point I realized that I might have watched too much Higurashi when I was fourteen.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Just stay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilson keeps making things worse when he desperately tries to make them better.</p>
<p>WARNINGS: Rape/noncon</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I was supposed to update this like two weeks ago but this time I had an actually actual good reason for not being active! My dog got hurt and because he my baby sonboy sweetypie I stopped functioning because I was too stressed out to do anything that requires brains ^^' So, yeah... I try to  update more often again, sorry about that (But don't worry, doggos fine again!).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>After spending so long without even a quick glance of Maxwell, it sure was strange when the man was suddenly around again. Wilson wasn't sure what to do with the constant feeling of the eyes staring into the back of his neck or the feeling of almost always having a heart attack when he turned around and Maxwell was suddenly standing just an inches away from him, but he'd rather get used to this than spend another half a year alone.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Besides, he felt a bit flattered that, apparently, Maxwell had been missing him too. A bit too much maybe, but still, he liked knowing that he had been missed as much as he had missed the other man. It was weird trying to get used to the thought that Maxwell was around just to be around, and he didn't need to wonder if he was supposed to give the King something in exchange or not.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I think I need to get more silk tomorrow. The tent is getting kinda unstable" Wilson had said once as he gently kicked the post of the tent, showing Maxwell how it had started to tremble uncomfortable amount when something touched it. A one storm and it would collapse in seconds.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There had been a bunch of silk in his camp the next day, and Wilson had tried to ask Maxwell where it had came from, but the man just shrugged and claimed ignorance. There had been quite a few similar instances after that, whenever Wilson would wonder out loud how he needed more of something or something had broken, and suddenly Ta-Dah, whatever it had been that he needed, he suddenly didn't need to worry about anymore.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell never confessed it was his doing, but really, if not his, the whose? Wilson just smiled and hummed and didn't ask about it. He had learned that Maxwell liked being praised by him but not when the man had tried to do something genuinely kind behind Wilson's back. That was a curious logic, but Wilson let it be, too. He suspected that Maxwell didn't really know how to be nice when he was actually allowed to be, so maybe giving him a soft way to ease into it would help things along.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Thank you" was all Wilson only ever said, and when Maxwell glanced at him as if to dare him to start accusing him of being nice, the younger man just shrugged and smiled.</em>
</p>
<p><br/>---</p>
<p><br/>Maxwell was shaking, shuddering under the man who kept fondling and caressing him hungrily, sending in more pain that mixed together with pleasure, making him struggle uncomfortably from the sensations that didn't go well together. The magician was taking thin, light breaths, his whole body aching, his chest, his throat, his hands, everything was in burning pain, and it made him confused and frightened how Wilson kept touching him in the ways that felt good, felt comforting, and everything was tangled together into a huge mess of emotions and feelings he didn't dare to touch. </p>
<p>"You just don't understand it yet, but don't worry... I'll make you feel so good that you will beg to stay with me" Wilson hummed, taking off Maxwell's underwear, and the man groaned with displeased voice. This wouldn't change his mind, this wouldn't do anything for him beyond maybe a short moment of pleasure that would be fake and unhelpful in the end. Wilson seemed to disagree, because suddenly he sat down and Maxwell felt something soft and warm being pushed against his cock. It made him flinch and he took in a quick breath of surprise, and somewhere in his mind he recognized that Wilson was rubbing his own cock against his, gently bumping them both in his claw-like hands, still dirtied and sticky with the older man's blood.</p>
<p>"Feels good, doesn't it? Am I being,<em> hnn</em>, good to you now, pet?" the shadow King huffed out a moan and shivered. Maxwell couldn't fight the twitch that run through him - after being tortured his body welcomed the pleasurable sensations more than gladly, and Maxwell would've been lying if he claimed he wasn't relieved to feel something gentle and good rather than being tossed on the floor and crushed to the point of passing out or getting parts of his body cut off for a change.</p>
<p>But it didn't change the fact that he just wanted to leave. He needed to leave, being close to Wilson when he wasn't himself anymore was bad enough, but being stuck here and completely depended on him was more than he was able to take for much longer.</p>
<p>"J-just... please, let me..." Maxwell was silenced by a claw on his mouth and a gentle hush, but he turned his head stubbornly away "Let me go! I've, <em>mnh</em>, got enough of this game of yours!"</p>
<p>"You... <em>hh</em>... are really testing my patience today, pet... I've got just the remedy for that, too... <em>ahh</em>..." Wilson didn't stop, didn't move away, but his touches got just a bit rougher and Maxwell swallowed a gasp when the claw let go of him, with one last, firm stroke.</p>
<p>The man couldn't do anything but wait, still trying to fight the restrains and his body that betrayed him by complying and welcoming the touches. To the magician's surprise Wilson suddenly lifted his legs up to his lap, and the older man took in a sharp, frightened inhale when he felt Wilson hot, throbbing tip press against his hole. Maxwell tensed and the discomfort overtook him in a wave, and he tried to back away, suddenly forgetting his burning fingertips and aching chest.</p>
<p>"Wilson don't, I'm, I'm not ready" he gasped out and felt his blood running cold, but somehow still burning in his face and his hard member. Wilson paused only for a second, until he leaned down to whisper against Maxwell's ear.</p>
<p>"Pet" his voice was almost amused, almost mocking "Don't tell me no one has ever fucked you before" Wilson didn't sound like he even tried to hide the surprise and over all pleased tone from his voice, and Maxwell bit his lip and turned his head away, blushing violently.</p>
<p>"Oh, darling~" Wilson hummed fondly and kissed his temple "You have been saving yourself for me, haven't you? You have been waiting for me for so long, and I have been so <em>selfish</em> and denied you the pleasure... oh how cruel of me, poor pet" he bumped his hips forward teasingly, not quite entering Maxwell but getting discomfortably close. The man tensed up even more, trying to fight away the frightened feeling that had no right to be there. He was not scared, he was not scared, he was not, He was Maxwell and Maxwell was not scared of anything.</p>
<p>"N-no, you just- you, you haven't even-"</p>
<p>"Shh shh, I promise you are going to enjoy this. Oh I can't wait to hear you scream like I do when you are so deep inside me..." he leaned to kiss Maxwell one last time, before pressing in, slowly starting to push through the tight ring of muscles that resisted the invading cock by tightening further. Maxwell whimpered out a pained sound and struggled against it, but only made Wilson moan in pleasure, and then suddenly the man thrust in, slamming his base against the thighs, and jolting from the shiver that run through him. Maxwell gasped, turned to yell on his shoulder and shut his eyes. It hurt, even if Wilson was fairly average sized, he didn't even loosen the skin or use any lubrication, and the man felt his skin tearing up from the unexpected invasion and rough thrust.</p>
<p>"Oh, pet..." Wilson's voice slithered into his ears, and it was high and mumbly, his claws sinking tight into Maxwell's legs, the sharp pain telling him the skin had broken there, too "I never thought that I was missing something, but I can see why you like being on this end so much..."</p>
<p>Wilson continued thrusting and Maxwell let out another muffled yelp that turned into a whimper halfway through. His skin was on fire, burning and hurting and the discomfort of being already in great amount of pain did nothing to help.</p>
<p>"I ww-will make this good f-for you, pet, you will love this as much as I do, <em>ahh</em>... Y-you will never want to leave me after I'm done" Wilson moaned in a low, sluggish voice, keeping his phase steady, trying out what worked best for him, testing how it felt. Maxwell was biting his lips and letting out suffocated whimpers and sobs. He wanted to cry, he just wanted all of this to end and be over and he wanted Wilson to hold him like he used to, so carefully and softly-</p>
<p>"Say my name to me, pet..." Wilson crooned with happy voice, and Maxwell just shook his head. He didn't want to, he would not give in because everytime he did things only got worse. Yet if he refused, things would still get worse, Wilson didn't understand what he was doing wrong and it felt bad to blame him from this, but it felt so wrong and it hurt, and not a single thing about this felt good.</p>
<p>"Pet. What is my name?" Wilson thrust harder, more forcefully and made Maxwell yelp in pain.</p>
<p>"Please, it- it hurts...Higgs-" he hissed and tried to ignore the tears that had started to form in his eyes. Wilson's sharp claws dashed in his mouth and caught his tongue between them, drawing a bit of blood, and Maxwell almost gagged but fell silent.</p>
<p>"<em>Don't</em>-" the man paused, took in a breath, continuing with much softer, but all the more threatening voice "-make me rip this thing out of your mouth, pet... I so love hearing your voice, but I <em>will</em> fix it if you <em>still</em> can't remember my name."</p>
<p>Maxwell swallowed with great difficulty.</p>
<p>"My. Name." Wilson thrust deeper than before, too fast and way too deep, leaving the man in pain, letting go of Maxwell's tongue with a sharp little yank "Say. It." he demanded with a growling tone, and Maxwell felt the shadows around him wrapping all over his body and tightening, the skin starting to burn from their tight grasp. He just breathed in a gasp and bit down to stop his voice from trembling.</p>
<p>"W..." Maxwell had probably started crying already, but he didn't pay it any attention, couldn't pay it any attention when his whole body hurt, and Wilson was fucking him too harshly and he couldn't see anything, couldn't escape the darkness to pretend that he was somewhere else.</p>
<p>"Say it!" Wilson almost yelled, the familiar sidevoice of <em>Them</em> carrying over as the younger man picked up his phase and got noticeably more and more frustrated for not having an answer.</p>
<p>"Wilson, it-it's Wilson!" Maxwell gave up, being swallowed by the pain a good while ago, only able to think how much everything hurt and how he just wanted this to stop, wanted to get away from Wilson.</p>
<p>"Good pet, good, it wasn't that hard, was it? It sounds so good coming from you lips" Wilson panted, much calmer than before, but his motion still growing harsher and deeper as he leaned down to lick Maxwell's ear and bit it playfully "Say it again~"</p>
<p>"Wilson, please-"</p>
<p>"Again" the short man purred in ecstasy, huffing heavy, hungry breaths on Maxwell's ear.</p>
<p>"Wilson..." Maxwell moaned, almost sobbed, and the other man hummed in satisfied done and kissed Maxwell's ear.</p>
<p>"Again."</p>
<p>"W...Wilson..."</p>
<p>Wilson let out a growly purring sound, completely satisfied and pleased. </p>
<p>"You wouldn't upset me again, would you?" he asked, and Maxwell felt his crooked smirk against his face "Be a good pet to me and I won't ever let anything bad happen to you, ever" he continued, getting just a pained, exhausted hiss out of the older man.</p>
<p>"Good, just let me hear my name from those hot, thick lips and I will make you feel so much better than you ever have" the short man moved away to leave a trail of kisses and teeth-scratches on Maxwell's skin, moaning and panting and never stopping to take a break from his fucking.</p>
<p>Wilson lifted away, leaving just a cold, empty feeling everywhere else than Maxwell's insides that were still torn apart and burning. It got a little easier just for a quick, passing seconds at times, until the burning pain returned, and Maxwell just didn't want to hurt anymore. He had lost himself to the pain and discomfort a long time ago, but he still winched and shook, his body tensing up when Wilson finally reached his peak and released inside him, filling him up too full and making him feel too hot and too heavy. The short man grasped his hips between his hands, strictly keeping him in place as he shook and ride out his orgasm, bulking his own hips in slow, eventually weakening movements.</p>
<p>Then, with a long, shuddering moan the King pulled himself out and collapsed over Maxwell, curling his hands around him and letting out a deep, satisfied and exhausted breath.</p>
<p>"Th...there... wasn't that good?" he kissed Maxwell's chin and hummed, pressing as close as he could to show his fondness to the older man "I will take good care of you, I promise... You don't ever have to leave me again, pet. I will give you everything you need. Just stay."</p>
<p>Maxwell didn't find any strength or willpower to answer. He just wanted to die.</p>
<p>Please God let him die.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. To be special</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Maxwell has submitted to his fate, and Wilson couldn't be happier.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Wilson never thought that he would be this nervous with his first time with someone. It's not like he had never had sex, he just hadn't really... been all that excited about it. It had been mostly because he was expected to want things like this, expected to like things like this, he was suppose to be a man and lust after women and joke about it with other men.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He was not that kind of a man.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell touched his cheek, tickling his skin with his claws, a calm, collected expression on his face, like he wasn't bothered or nervous at all. Wilson closed his eyes and breathed in. He was nervous for both of them. Still, he didn't refuse when the older man pulled him closer and let his other hand slowly run down his naked backside, feeling his skin and dancing on the small, faint scars that lay there.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Scared?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson shook his head, but hid his face in the other man's chest to escape his frustratingly calm eyes staring into him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"N-no, I just... I have never..."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Been with another man before?" The man finished the sentence, smirking at him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson made a whiny sound and felt his whole face burning up "Don't make fun of me." He muttered. He wanted this, he wanted Maxwell, but he was so afraid that the older man thought that it was sad, that it was pathetic that he was like this. He didn't want to be sad and pathetic, he wasn't.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The gentle fingers found their way under his chin and forced his face up, forced him to look at Maxwell.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I'm not making fun of you, pet" The man pecked a small kiss on his lips, carefully and lightly, testing the waters, and gave him a quick look. Wilson's whole body was tensed up, alert, but he was desperate for the touch. He didn't refuse when Maxwell pulled him into a longer, deeper kiss, and he let himself be pushed down on his back when the cold, steady hands moved over him without any hesitance.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson bit his lip and turned his head on the side, but as soon as he did he felt the other man's lips kissing his ear softly "I'll make this good for you. Just try to relax and stop worrying so much, I'm not gonna hurt you."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Knowing Maxwell, Wilson wasn't sure if he believed that claim. But he still wrapped his arms around the other man's neck, hugging him softly, fondly, seeking for some comfort. The King paused and pulled away, looking at Wilson with baffled, confused face, as if he wasn't sure what to do when he was being hugged. It was then when Wilson realized, that despite how it looked like on the outside, he wasn't the only one who was being nervous. An unruly smirk rose on his face.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Scared?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell laughed, without any tease or malice in his voice, and the sound eased Wilson's mind more than he could have hoped for.</em>
</p>
<p><br/>---</p>
<p><br/>Wilson had found an immense relief over the fact that Maxwell didn't ask to leave anymore. It was all he ever wanted, and he just knew that Maxwell would understand eventually that this was better, it had just been the matter of time, just like he knew it would be. It was all going to be better now, everything was fine again. He wouldn't be alone. He wouldn't be left behind. It was all fine.</p>
<p>The younger man had given his pet some time to rest, he knew people needed rest, even though it was a bit hard to always remember what humans needed when he himself didn't seem to need much of anything anymore.</p>
<p>Except for his Maxwell. Maxwell was the one thing he needed.</p>
<p>Wilson felt so much calmer and better now that he knew that nothing outside could hurt Maxwell, and the former King couldn't hurt himself either. He was safely tied down and hidden in a secret place where he would stay forever and ever and ever and ever with Wilson, and everything would be fine, and Wilson could always be with him when he wanted and needed and Maxwell was so sad when he wasn't around, poor thing, he must be missing his Wilson so much when he's not around, he would make sure to be around as much as he could.</p>
<p>The scientist made his way back to meet his pet who was, of course, were he would always be. Wilson curled to lay next to him and swept his claws gently on his chest, which earned a flinch and a quiet hiss from the older man.</p>
<p>"Oh, is it still sensitive?"</p>
<p>The crimson, glimmering blood had dried up days ago, the color already turned into a shade of rusty brown and hardened to cover the letters under Maxwell's clothes. His shirt was stained, the blood sogged through it here and there, but the man hadn't complained. Wilson just softly pet his chest, but when the man wouldn't stop twitching like he was in pain, Wilson sighed, irritated, and moved his hand on his shoulder instead.</p>
<p>"Is there anything you need, pet? I brought you something to eat." the younger man tried to strike up some conversation, but Maxwell didn't give him an answer. Wilson glanced up at his face. The man's eyes were dull and lidded, and he was staring at nothing in particular. It didn't look like he was even paying attention to what Wilson said, which made the younger man pout and he snapped his fingers. The sharp small sound sounded so much louder in the silence.</p>
<p>"Pet."</p>
<p>Maxwell flinched at the snapping sound, his eyes opening up and body tensing up. He must've been so tired, poor thing. Wilson let his face soften a bit and run his fingers on his jawline.</p>
<p>"I asked you a question, please answer. I'll let you rest all you want after that." he tenderly stroked his claws on the other man's face, patiently waiting. He shouldn't get angry so fast, his pet was just tired. He would be all better tomorrow after he's had enough rest. Although, it was kind of rude to sleep when Wilson was present. Maxwell had all the time in the world to sleep when he was alone here, he should at least give Wilson some of his attention when he was so nice and came to see him.</p>
<p>It took a while for Maxwell to answer, and he just shook his head. Wilson whined and snuggled his head on the older man's shoulder "But I brought you something to eat. I brought it here just for you. Don't you want it? It would be good for you." he pecked a couple of small kisses over Maxwell's cheek, and the man winced away from the touch. Wilson didn't mind, instead just gifting him with more kisses, that'd make him feel better.</p>
<p>"I think it would be better if you ate a little, wouldn't it?" he mused and lifted the small handful of berries close to the other man's head "Open your mouth, pet." he let his nail run softly across his lips, gently pulling them apart. Maxwell only made a small sound before he let Wilson open his mouth. The scientist smiled at him widely, although he was aware the other man wouldn't see it, he liked to think that Maxwell knew he was smiling at him. Why wouldn't he be? he was happy to be so close to the man he loved more than anything.</p>
<p>"I missed you a lot today." Wilson spoke while popping the small berries in Maxwell's mouth every once in a while "I ran into a few old friends of mine. They haven't been very happy with me lately... They don't understand that I'm just doing what I must do as a King. And they don't appreciate the fact that I could be doing so, <em>so much worse</em> to them than what I am actually doing. It kind of hurts to think they turned their backs on me as soon as I became someone better than them."</p>
<p>Wilson paused and furrowed his eyebrows, staring at his own claws.</p>
<p>"... I guess they only liked me as long as I was nothing special. They just liked feeling better than me, they just liked how superior they were able to be next to me. Sure, maybe I wasn't unnaturally strong or fireproof or wasn't able to use my books to get by or befriend spiders, but... I didn't think I was that pathetic. Maybe there wasn't anything special in me, but... I thought they'd still like me."</p>
<p>Wilson pressed closer, ignoring the small gasp that slipped through Maxwell's lips when he pushed himself over his body to be closer.</p>
<p>"You are the only one who who still cares. You always cared, didn't you? Even when I became better than you, you never stopped caring about me" he tried to keep his voice steady, tried not to sound so sad, but he couldn't stop himself. Maxwell understood, he would always understand. He wouldn't leave Wilson, would he? No, he wouldn't, <em>he couldn't</em>, Wilson needed him. He needed Maxwell. His Maxwell. Maxwell was the only one who loved him for who he was, he was the only one who didn't mind what Wilson did or what he said, he would always be here, always be here to comfort Wilson and listen to him and love him.</p>
<p>It was all going to be okay as long as he had Maxwell.</p>
<p>"... You <em>do</em> care about me, don't you, pet?" he asked, giving Maxwell a small tug on his sleeve and hiding his face in the groove of his neck. Of course Maxwell did, his pet, his beloved, his  treasure. Wilson knew he cared, he just wanted to hear it out loud. Nothing made him better than hearing Maxwell telling him how much he really, truly loved him.</p>
<p>Maxwell nodded. Wilson furrowed his brows, leaning to press his lips on his ear.</p>
<p>"Then tell it to me, pet. I want to hear you say it to me. Tell me how you feel about me."</p>
<p>"I..."</p>
<p>Wilson didn't hesitate to sink his claws into the other man's skin, and Maxwell  pulled his shoulders up and turned his head away.</p>
<p>"Tell me, pet. I won't ask twice."</p>
<p>"I, I... I love you."</p>
<p>It was a small, quiet voice, but it was enough to make Wilson melt, and he withdrew his hand away from his arm, pressing it gently on his cheek to turn his head back to face him "I know you do, pet." he gave the magician a soft, long kiss on his lips and curled up next to him to cuddle.</p>
<p>"I'm so happy you love me. I'm so happy you decided to stay here with me. We don't need anyone else, we can just stay like this forever."</p>
<p>He didn't receive an answer, but it was okay, he promised he'd let his pet rest. He just closed his eyes and hummed softly, snuggling his head on the other man's neck. His perfect, beloved, precious Maxwell. His. All his own, forever.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The turn of events</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilson gets freed from the throne.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
<em>Wilson's shoulders shook only more when he tried being quiet. The tears burned and itched in his eyes and his throat was thick and tight with repressed sobs he tried to keep under his breath.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Although it didn't surprise him that there was a hand landing on his shoulder, he still turned his head away in shame, trying to hide his ugly, tear-smeared face from the other man. Maxwell didn't need to ask him what was wrong.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Why am I here?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I've told you before. I didn't have any rhyme or reason when I chose you... it was random, mostly."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"No, I-I mean... Why am I still here? Why do you keep me here? Is there no explanation to that either? Am I just here to keep you amused until you find someone else to play with? What-w-what will you do when you get bored of me? Will you just let some other monster kill me like you used to, will you just watch me to starve to death over and over? What purpose do you have keeping me here like- like- like some kind of a toy-"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The long, sharp fingers grapped his chin and pulled his face up, to face the Nightmare King who looked surprisingly calm. Wilson had partly expected to be met with anger or even mockery, but Maxwell looked almost just... sorry. The talons on his face let go, instead rising to cup his cheeks softly, until Maxwell pushed his head down to plant a small kiss on his forehead. Wilson sniffed and shut his eyes tight while the tears just wouldn't stop falling.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"It's not my intention to keep you here to amuse myself... When I told you that I can't let you go... I meant it, literally. I do not have the power to send you back home. I wish I did... I'm sorry."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson flinched back and stared at the older man teary-eyed and flustered.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Wh-what?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I truly wish that I could send you back, but my powers are not as great as you might-"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You're sorry?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maxwell stopped and looked at Wilson, confused. Wilson looked even more confused. Not once had Maxwell said he was sorry before. Not for something as small as making him drip and fall, or something as big as letting the beefalo herd crush him to death. He had never... he had never heard an honest apology from him before. He wasn't sure if he had ever in his life heard an honest apology before in general, ever.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maxwell bit his lip and frowned and turned his head away. But there was a hint of pink color on his face, and it made something inside Wilson chest jump. He swallowed a sob and crawled to sit in front of Maxwell and hung his hands on his jacket, pushing his head on his chest.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Thank you. I... I appreciate that." There was not 'you're forgiven.' Not yet. But he couldn't deny the apology when it made him feel so good and warm for some reason.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maxwell shifted under his touch, and Wilson had learned to notice that this was the way Maxwell moved when he was flustered over something. The scientist let another quiet sob escape his lips. The hand landed on his head and brushed through his hair lightly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I really am sorry. There are lot of things I wish I could take back. I won't come back if you want me to leave you alone... I would understand." Maxwell murmured softly at him, and Wilson didn't have any doupt that he was being honest. The younger man pressed himself closer and wrapped his hands around the other man.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I don't want you to go, I just... I'm tired of fighting all the time."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The hand on his hair stopped for a moment. Then, very carefully and slowly it pressed closer and Maxwell spoke, and his voice had dropped deeper, more serious.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I can't take you home... But I can protect you. I can keep you safe from the monsters and the other horrors in Constant... If you want me to."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson was quiet for a while longer, until he frowned as the tears bubbled out of his eyes again and he couldn't fight the sobs and hiccups. He just buried himself as deep into the nightmare King's arms as he could, as close as he was able to, and gripped his fancy suit with his dirty fingers like his life depended on it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was so tired.</em>
</p><p><br/>
---</p><p><br/>
Wilson might have thrown up on himself if he actually had anything in his stomach. He was so disgusted by himself that he couldn't even start to list the words to describe this foul feeling he had inside his gut. He didn't know if he was still even himself anymore, he didn't know if he was sane anymore, he couldn't be, he was just <em>sick</em>.</p><p>He tried to get up again, but the throne didn't let him, of course it wouldn't. Why would this time be any different than the last hundred tries? It yanked him back effortlessly like he was nothing.</p><p>Then, suddenly, something new happened. Something unexpected and unforeseeable, that caught the captive King's attention.</p><p>A flickering light in the darkness that burned weakly before suddenly shutting out, as did few others after it, one by one. The scientist frowned, cautiously, and stared into the darkness. There was something... Something that was approaching the throne.</p><p>Then, the visitor walked into his view.</p><p>Wilson was very confused but a glad to see that whatever it was that was sweeping the lights out and coming closer was just a kind looking young lady. Not a human, not by the looks of it, but Wilson had learned not to judge creatures by their appearance (he was in very good terms with Webber out of anyone after all. At least, he used to be).</p><p>He smiled at the young woman slithering closer, her black dress (if it even was a dress, looked to be somehow part of her body...) swirling on the ground as she approached him, returning Wilson's equally curious and kind smile to him.</p><p>---</p><p>... The light was burning.</p><p>It<em> hurt.</em> </p><p>And so did everything else. As if Maxwell didn't hurt just enough as he did already, his eyes just needed to have a little bit of pain of their own, didn't they? Wonderful.</p><p>Maxwell wrapped his arms over his face, curling up into a ball, and after a small break of sheltering his eyes he dared to crack them open in slight, thin lines, and this time the sharp blinding light hurt only a little bit. It took a while for him to notice that something had changed. Something was different, something had happened... he wasn't sure what. He tried to remember.</p><p>One moment he had been laying on his back in the darkness, and then it was like the world had shattered around him. He had fallen down, down from somewhere, shadows fading away as they lost their grasp on him and disappeared alongside the emptiness. But the memory of exactly <em>what</em> had occurred was all just a vague mess tangled together in his mind, all very confusing, all very painful. He decided not to think about it.</p><p>The man just breathed in and out, in and out, his cheek pressed against the hard, uneven ground, not like the smooth surface in his cage. Whatever it had been, it had turned into a dirt, small pebbles and grass. The voices had changed, too. There were sounds around him, different from before, but Maxwell was too tired to care abut them more than giving them a little quick notice. Everything hurt and he just wrapped his arms tighter around himself and bit his teeth together, concentrating all of his strength on breathing slowly.</p><p>In, and out.</p><p>---</p><p>Wilson woke up on the ground. This was very familiar to him, yet if felt so distant... He hadn't woken up from the ground, his pockets empty and missing all of his belongings for ages - nor had he felt like his head was all his, all clear and bright, like he hadn't been himself for years. But it couldn't have been that long, he was sure it couldn't. Not even in the darkness of the throne room where-</p><p>Wilson jumped up in sudden horror and gasped, his eyes wide and his heart dropping. <em>Maxwell.</em> Where was Maxwell, was he left behind? Wilson wasn't sure how the man could escape the place without his help, it was something he had created just for Maxwell. Maybe he was somewhere, Wilson should try to find him, try to free him, he couldn't leave Maxwell suffering alone in some isolated place.</p><p>The scientist stumbled up on his feet and started trotting forward, though he wasn't sure  where exactly was he headed, if he even was going on the right direction. His mind was blank, and he was feverishly trying to think of how to free Maxwell, how to get to him, how to...</p><p>Wilson's panicky running came to a sudden halt when he caught a glance of familiar, dark purple fabric puddled on the ground, shaped like a human, back turned on him. Wilson's brain stopped working for a second.</p><p>Was that... Maxwell? How? When? Could Maxwell really be here with him? When did he... It would be possible that the cage Wilson build disappeared when he was set free from the throne, tossed back into this place. The young man was pretty sure he had lost all of his powers too, maybe the dimension he had locked Maxwell in had disappeared with the rest of his magic. Whatever it was that had happened, he didn't care or have time to unravel right now, his priorities were elsewhere.</p><p>Wilson stared at Maxwell, feeling his heart freezing and his breath getting stuck. Suddenly his throat was stuffy and tight,  and his head felt empty. His heart was beating with judgmental thuds, cracking slowly from the guilt.</p><p>The man licked his lips nervously and then he carefully approached the other man, kneeling down beside him, lips slightly parted in regret and worry, just staring without really knowing how to start. The other man didn't move, but he was breathing slowly. At least he was alive.</p><p>"...Maxwell?" he tried softly, warily. The man didn't answer, no reaction followed. Wilson swallowed, feeling a sob trying to escape his mouth "Maxwell, it's me... Are you... are you okay?"</p><p>The man gave no implication that he had heard Wilson's words, and the scientist grew more and more concerned of him.</p><p>"Maxwell, do you hear me?"</p><p>The answer never came. An unpleasant, terrible thought sneaked into Wilson's mind, and he bit his lip, furrowing his brows and already regretting the idea as it came to him.</p><p>"...Pet?"</p><p>Maxwell flinched, this time very noticeably and clearly. Wilson's felt a cutting pain in his chest. He placed his hand on Maxwell's shoulder, turning him around and finally helping him sit up against the tree trunk. Maxwell didn't seem like he was fully aware of where he was, his eyes directed to silently stare at the ground, mostly kept closed, and his lips parted slightly with slow, small breaths running through them.</p><p>Wilson lowered his eyes to something he really hoped that would've been just a bad dream. Maxwell's fingers were still dirty with blood, the shadows obviously faded away, only tender flesh where his fingernails should've been. Wilson was terrified to see what might lie underneath his clothes - he could see the dark spots of dried blood sogged through his shirt and vest. He swallowed.</p><p>"What have I done to you?" he breathed out a question, voice barely audible, and got no answer, no reaction from Maxwell. But the question didn't need to be answered anyway. They both knew very well what he had done. The taller man seemed to have trouble with breathing, he seemed over all ragged and dirty, small cuts where Wilson had grabbed him with his claws.</p><p>Wilson shook his head and started patting Maxwell's clothes - his gloves must've been somewhere, maybe in his pockets. It'd be better to cover his hands up before Wilson could treat them properly. Wilson found them from the inner pocket of magician's suit jacket, and while he searched, he also found something he knew he had taken away from the man.</p><p>Codex Umbra.</p><p>Wilson's eyes widened in horror and without thinking he quickly snatched the book away, terrified that Maxwell had it again. He shouldn't have taken it away, not now nor in the first place, but he got frightened seeing it. He was scared that Maxwell would do something to him now that he had his book again. The older man's eyes rose up, slightly widened when the book was taken from him again, twitching his arm up a bit, but then he just closed his mouth and lowered his head, pulling his arms close to his body. Wilson's forehead wrinkled with worry and regret. He assured himself that he would give the book back to Maxwell later, when the man would be in a little bit better shape. When he wasn't like... like <em>this</em>.</p><p>"I... I'm so sorry... There is nothing I can..." Wilson started, but the words died on his tongue, tears stinging his eyes. There was nothing he could say or do to defend his actions, nothing he could use as an excuse. How could he have done this to Maxwell... How was he even capable of doing something so horrible to someone he loved?</p><p>Wilson quickly brushed his face with the back of his hand, tugging Maxwell's book inside his own vest and helping the other man up very carefully. Maxwell tensed at his touch and leaned away slightly, but didn't try to take an actual step away from him.</p><p>"Let's make a camp, we should- w-we should treat your wounds." Wilson explained and led the other man to the place where he estimated them to be safest at the moment, and wasted no time starting to gather the necessary resources to make them something to settle in for tonight.</p><p>Maxwell wasn't speaking to him, and Wilson could've understood, would've preferred if it was out of anger, but Maxwell just sat down and stared the ground, his chest moving in unsteady rhythm, arms held safely close to his body. It was such a sad sight. Wilson would've wanted to be yelled at, cursed at, but no. Maxwell was just silent and still.</p><p>The younger man worked quickly to make a temporary camp for them, all the while keeping his eye on Maxwell. When the night landed over the Constant and the small campfire burned safely close to them, Wilson finally approached the older man again, slowly. He knelt down, hesitantly reaching his hands out.</p><p>"...I should take a look at your injuries, if... If you will let me" he told the other man, stopping to wait for an answer, the permission. Maxwell just slowly drew his brows together but didn't answer, didn't even look at him. Wilson wanted to burst out in tears. He  wanted to collapse on Maxwell's lap and cry, cry because he was a horrible person and he let <em>Them</em> use him like a puppet, and cry because underneath all of the excuses he could use he knew it had all been his own doing, in the end.</p><p>There was no excuse, nothing could make what he had done okay in any level. Wilson had always despised those who hurt others under the influence of drugs or alcohol, hurt others when they weren't in acceptable mental state, and used it as an excuse later to get out of trouble. Things like that, drugs and illness, they changed you, made you do things you would regret, things you'd never do if your mind was bright and clear. But it didn't take accountability and responsibility away, it didn't make you any less guilty.</p><p>God he hated himself.</p><p>Maxwell tried not to think about the words Wilson spoke or that his hands were hovering uncomfortably close. He tried not to do anything. It was easier that way. Do not move, do not speak, do not think. Don't give Wilson a reason to hurt you, just be a good pet and the pain will eventually go away. He just had to wait it out, Wilson would take what he wanted and if Maxwell didn't anger him, he'd eventually move on with whatever was in his mind and leave Maxwell alone for unforeseeable time, until he was needed again. Until then he might get to rest, he might have a little time to breath without the looming treath of the King's fury awaiting a smallest mistake to set it off.</p><p>The man flinched when there were hands on his chest, very lightly pressing on the fabric of his jacket, and he closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. Wait it out, Wilson is not going to hurt him if he just does what he wants. He'd just have to fight away the need to pull away, and Wilson is going to be kind to him.</p><p>"Your wounds must be painful, I... I should really take a look at them. Is that okay, Maxwell?"</p><p>The man furrowed his brows barely enough to make his expression change from tense to confused. Wilson hadn't really called him anything else than a pet for a... week? Month?? Multiple months??? He didn't remember, didn't care to remember, and it confused and unnerved him. And why would the other man ask him for his opinion anyway? It didn't matter, didn't matter what he said, didn't matter if he gave him a Yes or a No, didn't matter how he felt.  So he didn't answer, just stared at the ground with tired, dull eyes and concentrated on staying still and trying to direct his thoughts elsewhere to keep himself calm (well, as calm as he could be when he needed to be alert all the time).</p><p>Wilson carefully asked the permission to touch him a few more times, asked to get to tend his wounds, but in the end Maxwell didn't answer him. Wilson decided to take the matters in his own hands. He couldn't let Maxwell suffer and hurt just because the man wouldn't respond to him. It was his responsibility to make sure he would get better now.</p><p>Carefully and with upmost care and gentleness Wilson took off his gloves and his shirt, cleaned up his throat and fingers. Maxwell flinched at the touch on his hands, and Wilson apologized every time the man drew his mouth in cringe as he tried not to make any sounds.</p><p>The wounds on his chest were a bit easier to clean, not as painful as his fingers or as ragged as his throat, but it stung Wilson more. It was a special kind of slap in the face to see your own name staring back at you, dried blood over each letter like an armor to make sure it was there to stay.</p><p>Wilson swallowed. It was there to stay.</p><p>He tried to cleanse the chest as carefully and quickly as he could, all the while trying his best to comfort Maxwell somehow, speaking kindly and softly to him. His words seemed to make a little impact as the older man still gave him hardly any response at all, no matter what Wilson tried to say. He did not blame Maxwell for his silence. It only became a problem when he came to the part where he had to take of his pants to see how badly he was hurt from Wilson's horrible, terrible attempt to make him stay.</p><p>Wilson pressed his eyes close and shuddered. He didn't want to think about it.</p><p>"Maxwell, I... I'm so sorry for..." he swallowed the rest of the words, rising his eyes up to look at the other man, but the magician was still hanging his head. Wilson pouted, fighting back his need to cry. It didn't matter, he couldn't fix this with any kind of apology, no matter how long or grand or honest. He tried to just not to think about it when he took off Maxwell's suit pants and tended to the hurt area the best he could, tried not to touch anything for too long, tried not to cause any more pain than he already had.</p><p>At least the pain in his body would heal in time.</p><p>The other kind of pain, though...</p><p>Wilson tried to think of something else when he helped Maxwell dress up again and laid some hay on the ground. He'd have to make more favorable living adjustments tomorrow, to give proper bandages for the older man, to get him a better shelter to stay in, but right now he could only try to make Maxwell as comfortable as possible with the little he had in hand. The other man kept quiet and still even as Wilson gently pushed him on the bed of hay on the ground. He didn't know what else to do, so he placed his own vest over Maxwell's shoulders, even though it hardly even covered him at all. Wilson sat down next to him quietly.</p><p>He couldn't remember his time on the throne clearly. He couldn't recall all the details or the circumstances they occurred in, but he knew what he had done... mostly because the evidence happened to be so easy to see, clearly before his eyes, and even if it wouldn't, he could still <em>feel</em> that he had done horrible things. Not only to Maxwell, though the man had suffered the greater deal than anyone else, but to other survivors too. If he ever run into them again, he'd need to apologize for everything he'd done.</p><p>It was <em>Them</em>, it was the throne. He tried to resist <em>Them</em>, he had fought, he never wanted to hurt anyone. But what did it really matter, after he still ended up doing the things he had never imagined he would be capable of? Excuses, excuses.</p><p>
  <em>Excuses.</em>
</p><p>He was no better than <em>Them</em>. He was no better than any other criminal in this or the previous world.</p><p>Wilson was pulled out of his thoughts when he tossed a log into the fire and Maxwell made a small sound, rising his hands over his face and curling up. Wilson turned to face him, worried.</p><p>"What? What is it? Is something wrong-" <em>what a terribly stupid question</em> "Can I do something?" he leaned to touch lightly the shoulder of the older man who was huddled in the small space behind his arms, pulling his legs against his stomach.</p><p>"...It's just... too bright..." Maxwell mumbled and tried to press his hands harder over his eyes and hissed at the pain on his fingers. He was, for a moment, very scared that he had complained on something he shouldn't have when Wilson's hand landed on his shoulder, and he froze, waiting for the sharp claws and irritated voice, waited for them to come so he could apologize as soon as he possibly could to avoid being punished in someway.</p><p>But Wilson did no such thing. The man just glanced at the fire behind him, and let his shoulders drop. He looked at the ground and pit his lip. Oh, of course. Maxwell had been in the total darkness for so long it would probably take a while to get used to the natural light again.</p><p>The shorter man carefully turned Maxwell over so he could face away from the campfire, and he started stroking Maxwell's shoulder gently. The man under his touch was still as a stone, frozen in place, and it took a long while to let his body untense, but eventually he went limp and silent again.</p><p>Maxwell fell into a light, fragmentary sleep and would occasionally make a small movement when he woke up and fell asleep again.</p><p>Wilson spend the whole night tending to the fire, staring into the flames and contemplating on burning his hands off to make sure he would never hurt anyone ever again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Stick and stones may break your bones</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilson has a hard time trying to survive with Maxwell.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Wilson had never felt so exhausted and hurt. His whole body felt like it had been slammed against every boulder and tree in Constant and then set into flames.  And he loved it, every second of it. Maxwell was just so... oh god, Wilson couldn't even began to list the things what the other man made him feel when he was deep inside him and huffing the hot air into his ear, the chest pressed against his back.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>When the King finally pulled out of him, Wilson moaned and his eyes rolled into his head. God, it felt so good to be touched after who knows how long time he had spent here alone. Every time they did this it felt like he hadn't been touched for years.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Max?" he breathed out when the older man landed next to him, rolling over his side.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Higgsbury?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Tell me how much you like me."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The King rose his eyebrow at him, not looking particularly excited for the request.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"And why? Don't I tell it to you enough when I'm coming inside you?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson blushed harder than he thought was possible and crawled under Maxwell's armpit, resting his ruffled up hair on his shoulder "Th-that's different. I just... I don't want that to be the only time when you say it."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell smirked like a chesirecat and took the scientist's chin between his fingers seductively.</em>
  <br/>
  
  <br/>
  <em>"Oh, are you afraid that I love your body more than you?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>His smirk faded in an instant when he met Wilson's eyes, the amount of deep, cold fear in them telling him enough. The magician let out a huff through his nose, smiled softly, and pulled Wilson closer to kiss him lightly.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"For someone who claims to be so smart, you really have no clue sometimes" he murmured into his ear which made the other man huff in irritation in turn.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"...You want to hear how much I adore and cherish you, pet? Hm? Do you want me to tell you how much I think of you every time I'm away, how much I miss your rambles and theories when I'm not with you? Do you wish to hear how precious and unique you are, that there is no other like you? Do you need me to tell you how I don't ever want to let go of you, how much I wish that I could stay with you like this forever? Is that what you want me to tell you?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson felt his chest burning. He beamed, he absolutely shined and glowed, his heart suddenly fluttering and beating like it had never been as much alive as it was right now. He chuckled and swept his knuckles gently over Maxwell's chin, who in turn seemed to get flustered from the touch. Wilson smiled at that difficult, shady nightmare King and sighed.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Yeah, I like you that much, too."</em>
</p>
<p><br/>---</p>
<p><br/>The morning started out as cold and foggy, but it gently warmed up as the day arrived. Wilson mined and picked up resources, chopped down trees and built things. He worked fast. He had to. He needed to make a decent camp for them so they could be at relative safety and comfort as soon as possible.</p>
<p>Maxwell didn't seem interested of helping at him. In fact, the didn't seem interested of doing anything at all. He just followed Wilson when the young man pulled him along in fear of what'd happen if he wasn't there keeping an eye on the man, and then Maxwell would stand silently where Wilson would park him to wait while he worked.</p>
<p>The only interaction that proved to Wilson that Maxwell was still at least somewhat with him was the short answer to his question at the camp when the night arrived.</p>
<p>"Do you want something to eat?"</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>The scientist gave him a pair of froglegs, which the taller man hesitantly took, and the conversation was left at that. Wilson was too ashamed to try to force the older man to interact with him, and Maxwell didn't seem to care to say or do anything unless Wilson put him up for it.</p>
<p>The next day was no better. Things were easier now that he had at least some helpful structures and items at hand (like the science machine and the tent, for example), but he still couldn't help the feeling that he was not doing enough to ease Maxwell's pain. Wilson remembered how the magician used to be so bold and pretentious, a graceful man who carried himself with pride. He used to be the polar opposite of what he seemed to be now, and Wilson had decided that he would nurse the man back to even a half of what he used to be. It was his responsibility, the least he could do.</p>
<p>At some point, while following Wilson around, Maxwell had stopped to look at the lonely butterfly fluttering nearby. Wilson didn't dare to poke his nose around and disturb him, but he stood close by and kept an eye on the situation. He expected Maxwell to try to kill or catch the little thing, but the man was only watching it with interest much like Wilson had only seen in the mirror when he studied things.</p>
<p>After a few long, dragging minutes of nothing happening the butterfly fluttered on it's merry way, and Maxwell just stared after it quietly. Wilson walked beside him and after standing there awkwardly for a while, he cocked his head and carefully cleared his throat.</p>
<p>"Did you, uh... want something with that bug?" he asked, and Maxwell stumbled a few startled steps away, staring at Wilson for a long moment eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. It cut straight through the scientist's heart. Maxwell just stood there for a while, a long silence around him, staring at Wilson as if searching  for something, perhaps a clue for how he should answer to him or if Wilson was angry at him.</p>
<p>Wilson only blinked, trying his best not to step closer even though he wanted to. He felt the immense need to comfort Maxwell somehow, but he was afraid to approach the man, knowing all too well that his proximity was not wanted at the moment.</p>
<p>After a while, when Maxwell seemed to realize that the short man just stood there and waited without any intent to do something to him, he calmed down a little bit, turning his head down and untensing his shoulders a bit.</p>
<p>"...Haven't seen anything living for a... a little while." the man explained in quiet mutter and looked away. </p>
<p>"Oh." Wilson bit his lip and Maxwell tensed up again for the noise he made, which caused the scientist just hung his head in shame. Maxwell hadn't really seen anything at all for a while. It must've felt so strange now, to be able to see what you're doing and touching, to see where you're going. After being swallowed by the darkness, being unsure about everything, not able to anticipate anything that was about to happen, it probably took a while to get used to see again. Wilson knew that in the throne room he had been at least able watch things from afar, he could at least project himself out. Unlike in the place where Wilson had hidden him in.</p>
<p>He shook his head, carefully taking Maxwell's hand which made the man gasp out a small uncertain sound, and Wilson tried to not think about how wary the other man felt when he lead them to the forest so he could gather them some silk.</p>
<p>So went the whole week, in uncertain silence and awkward looks and wary touches.</p>
<p>Maxwell let the younger man pull him along and just occasionally mumbled out a short sentence if he was asked something, only moving if Wilson dragged him away from the place he had settled himself in and just pretty much standing around without doing anything if Wilson didn't specifically put him up for it. It worried Wilson a lot. He wondered if Maxwell was just tired and didn't care about what was happening around him, or if he was afraid that Wilson would hurt him if he did something on his own. Both sounded equally possible, although the scientist really hoped that it wasn't the later option. He really hoped Maxwell wasn't afraid of him.</p>
<p>Although he would not blame the man. He had been a very terrible King.</p>
<p>But no matter the reason, it was a problematic thing when they needed to survive. It was sometimes quite literally the matter of seconds that could lead to either victory or dreadful and horrifying doom, and surviving was difficult enough without a grown man being absolutely careless and impassive to the dangers around them, and Wilson feared that fact and doubted he would be able to protect both of them if something were to happen.</p>
<p>And of course, just like always, something happened. The howling and barking echoing in the distance. The looming threat around them in the form of giant beasts made of teeth and fury and pain. Wilson would be able to kill the hounds, he would be able to protect himself and stay alive, but Maxwell... Maxwell didn't even bat an eye when the terrifying sounds carried over in the air. Wilson on the other hand was panicking out of his mind. He dressed Maxwell in the heavy log armor and gave him a spear, but it wouldn't be enough if the man was not going to use it for the heaven's sake! He considered giving the other man his book back, but something made him decide against it. Maxwell wouldn't be able to do a thing with his book if he wasn't thinking straight enough to realize that the baying meant hounds and hounds meant danger and death.</p>
<p>Wilson was feverishly thinking how to help his friend stay alive and safe. He could hide Maxwell in the tent, but the hounds would smell him right away. If he had walls he could just push Maxwell against one and stood in guard in front of him, but he had no walls built up yet. In a panic he dragged the tall man over to the nearest tree and turned to grasp his arms, and Maxwell flinched at the touch and bit his teeth together, leaning away. It didn't make things any easier.</p>
<p>"Okay Maxwell, listen to me." the younger man started with a stern voice, but Maxwell was  still leaning away from him and, frozen tensely and pressing his eyes shut as if preparing himself to hurt again. Wilson bit his lip in rising panic and fear "Maxwell, this is important, you have to climb that tree and stay there until I'm done with the hounds, okay?"</p>
<p>There was no implication that Maxwell was even listening to him, let alone giving any attempts to get up on the tree. Wilson shook Maxwell firmly "Maxwell, this is really, <em>really</em> important! Please listen, Maxwell, please!"</p>
<p>No answer, no movement. Wilson shut his eyes tightly and took in a deep breath. He hated himself, he really did, but he'd do anything to keep Maxwell safe. He snapped his fingers.</p>
<p>"Pet."</p>
<p>Maxwell flinched and turned to look at him with wary eyes. Wilson didn't have time to feel like a monster, the baying getting closer and closer every second and he didn't have any time to waste.</p>
<p>"Listen, you have to get up on that tree and stay there until I say otherwise, do you understand?"</p>
<p>Maxwell cracked his lips open, closed them again, and just nodded fastly.</p>
<p>"Good. Now come here, I'll give you a lift."</p>
<p>He barely had Maxwell off the ground when the hounds rushed into his view behind the bushes. He took a defensive stand and quickly glanced up at the tree where Maxwell had, for his relief, managed to climb at least somewhat away from the ground.</p>
<p>The battle wasn't long. It never took long for Wilson to finish a fight- he either ended up dying faster than you could say 'fuck these demon dogs', or he managed to land some perfectly aimed hits on the beasts. He had a lot of experience (more than he liked to admit) battling with the hounds and pretty much knew how to handle few of them by now.</p>
<p>Maybe he had gotten so used to it that sometimes he forgot that he wasn't untouchable, not at all, as the Constant proved once again that he was at the bottom of the food-chain here.  One of the hounds sunk it's teeth in his arm before he could see the attack coming, and Wilson fell down on the ground and hit his head, trying to fight the large canine away from him. He was lucky that the others were already dead, lest he'd be torn to shreds by now... He had no strength like the monster above him, nor did he have powerful paws or razor-sharp teeth.</p>
<p>As the pain in his arm worsened and he was sure that this was it, the hounds would once again win the fight, the creature suddenly let out a growling whine, and stood still for a few second, before falling down and going limp. Wilson panted heavily and laid under the corpse, moving his gaze to Maxwell. The magician was standing next to him, holding a bloody spear in his hands, a look of confusion on his face. Wilson crawled away under the monster and kicked it away, still breathing heavily and clutching his injured arm. He rose his eyes to Maxwell again, who was eyeing the spear like he had never seen one before.</p>
<p>"Thank you." Wilson swallowed, which made Maxwell look at him with very unsure face. Wilson stood up, cringing from the pain as he walked closer, which once again made the older man make a sudden, panicky movement. He opened his mouth, rising his arms up and dropping the spear on the ground, his lips moving in silent panic as if he was about to give Wilson an explanation of his action, to not make him angry again, but Wilson cut in fast before he got a single word out.</p>
<p>"Thank you, I... I am grateful you didn't let me die."</p>
<p>He was grateful for that. Maxwell didn't owe him a single good deed or favor anymore, and Wilson couldn't let even the smallest act go unnoticed. Maxwell snapped his mouth shut and nodded without a word, still looking very much ready to run away the closer Wilson got.</p>
<p>The young man just touched his upper arm, giving it a couple of gentle rubs, before he nodded towards the camp "Come on, let's go back. Better head there before the dark."'</p>
<p>Maxwell said nothing, but followed him back.</p>
<p>Wilson sat the older man down, helped him out of the armor and thanked him again before sitting close by to cleanse and tend to the injury in his arm. The skin was screaming red and pink, tender flesh in clear sight. The scientist winched as he started to sew the wound close. The hurt was immense but he tried to man it out, some old echo from his childhood, a well-meant but insulting whisper, <em>be a man and suck it up</em>, crawling briefly through his head. </p>
<p>"....You're not invincible anymore, are you?" the quiet voice slithered into his ears. Wilson froze and slowly rose his eyes to Maxwell, who had been watching but turned his head on side when their eyes met. It could've been just an innocent question, but Wilson feared that he heard the implication in it, the threat that came with the understanding that he was not, in fact, untouchable like he had been as a King.</p>
<p>Still, Wilson knew he would deserve any violent response from Maxwell if the man chose to react that way. Wilson would deserve the anger and hate and everything that came with it, so despite his fear he just nodded quietly and continued to tend to his arm.</p>
<p>"Yeah... I'm just a human. The throne won't protect me anymore." he said, almost feeling the lump in his throat that he tried to fight away.</p>
<p>Nothing else was said for the rest of the day.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The right name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Maxwell is trying to get it together, and Wilson sinks deeper into his guilt.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The rain came down as mercilessly as ever, freezing the air, making handling the tools practically impossible and sogging anything that it hit. Wilson watched it from his tent and was just grateful it was a normal rain this time, just a water falling from the sky - never in his life had he thought he had to be grateful that the rain was normal. But now he could almost cry from the relief when it turned out to be just the relatively harmless water and not the green, slimy murder-happy devils that fell on his neck.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Like watching the rain, Higgsbury?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson gasped and jolted around, his hand grasping his shirt where his heart pounded with surprise and startle. Maxwell just smirked at him the way he always did, already laying down on his fur roll like he lived there. Wilson breathed out, shaking his head with a small irritation. Maxwell really should at least try to announce his arrival someway. One of these days Wilson was gonna die from an actual heart-attack if the man kept doing his surprise-visits like this.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I like watching it not happening to me." he muttered and continued watching outside. The tent wasn't completely waterproof, but it held the rain the best out of any other structures. Wilson frowned slightly. The chests were somewhat waterproof too, but not by much. His stuff was gonna get soggy and some of it probably ruined for good. He should've taken some of it safe inside the tent. Well, too late now, he didn't want to step into the pouring rain and get a flue or something.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson shivered and moved deeper inside the tent to escape the freeze of the storm. He was not surprised when the all too familiar hands landed on his arms and started stroking him through his sleeves, rubbing some much welcomed warmth into his body.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You seem cold."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I am cold."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>No further explanation was needed, and Maxwell let go of him, only to lay something soft and warm and big on his shoulders. Wilson wrapped Maxwell's wintercoat around himself and let out a pleased sigh. Maxwell could be very kind sometimes, even when they weren't having sex. It was still a bit weird to think that the nightmare King was actually capable of being nice just for the heck of it, not wanting anything in return. It was weird, yes, but it didn't feel wrong.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson hummed and leaned back to Maxwell's tall body. Maxwell let him there, but didn't reach to hold him this time, rather just letting the shorter man use him as a chair. It was yet another thing about Maxwell that was surprising, but what Wilson could appreciate greatly. It wasn't that the man was really making him uncomfortable, but it was a nice gesture that Maxwell would be considerate of his personal space. Funny how things had changed.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson kept watching the rain and just listened the drops fall against the fabric of the tent.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It didn't take for long until fingers started to gently stroke through his hair, and the little smile crept over Wilson's face. Well, personal space was over-rated anyway.</em>
</p>
<p><br/>---</p>
<p>Maxwell woke up in the morning, and was, once again, a bit surprised that he was actually met with the green fabric of the tent and the light of the slowly rising sun behind it, instead of just the darkness all around him.<br/>The man sighed and turned on his side, facing away from Wilson who slept next to him, curled into himself, snoring very lightly in his sleep.</p>
<p>Maxwell didn't hurt so badly anymore, but that didn't take away from the fact that he was still feeling very uncomfortable and nervous. He didn't want to be, he knew he wasn't like that, not really, but he couldn't stop the creeping feelings surfacing every time he started to think things too long or too deeply.</p>
<p>He wasn't a weak person. He <em>wasn't</em>, and damned be anyone who dared to think that he was. He told himself that a lot, but it seemed that his confidence crumbled down to dust every time there was a hand laying on him, every time Wilson asked him something and he didn't know what he should answer and every time when he took too long to think about it, every time he did something and then realized that perhaps it was for the best that he didn't do anything so he wouldn't upset the younger man. It was for the best to just let Wilson do what he wanted and maybe it was going to be fine.</p>
<p>Maxwell closed his eyes and fought against the need to glance over his shoulder to the other man inside the tent. It felt somehow both comforting and terrifying to not see him. On the one hand he liked to see what Wilson was doing so he knew what to expect, knew if he should expect something, and it brought some sense of ease on his nerves that he knew, could visually confirm, that Wilson was himself again, looked like himself again, didn't have any kind of aura of threat or danger around anymore.</p>
<p>But that didn't make Maxwell any less scared of him, because on the other hand, that felt much heavier, it was difficult to see him. It was exhausting to always need to be aware of what was happening, torn between keeping his eye on Wilson so he was always capable to see what was happening and turning to look away and keep his eyes on the ground as to not infuriate or annoy the younger man.</p>
<p>He hadn't really thought what he had been doing when he jumped down the tree and stabbed the hound to death. He hadn't really thought anything at all, he just acted in some deeper instinct that took a hold of him, needed to get rid of the danger, needed to save Wilson.</p>
<p>He wasn't sure if he should've. Maybe he would be better off if he just... let Wilson die. That would mean he wouldn't need to be on his toes around him all the time. He could breath easier, he could do things without having to constantly think if it was wrong, if he shouldn't do this, if he was making a mistake. It would be easier than to just not do anything at all in fear of the consequences. He wouldn't get hurt if Wilson was not here to hurt him.</p>
<p>But Wilson would just come back if he died. He'd find the unused touch stone, and return back and Maxwell didn't want to think what would happen when he did. He didn't want to upset Wilson. He couldn't afford to do so. It was better to keep him happy.</p>
<p>Maxwell tensed up when he felt something soft bump into his back, and then there was so very quiet mumble behind him. He knew Wilson was asleep, but he still waited to see if he really was, just in case this was some kind of trap, or a test, and he would set off the anger of the younger man if he dared to try to move away.</p>
<p>In the end the anxious drumming in his chest won, and the older man very slowly and carefully sifted away from the other man. </p>
<p>There was no reaction, no complaining or protest. Just silent sound of someone who was in deep sleep. Maxwell dared to release a breath he had been holding in. He knew Wilson wasn't the King anymore, he knew Wilson was himself again, mostly, and he knew the man had not hurt him once since they both ended up back on the board, but knowing it didn't stop him from fearing the alternative. He still could easily imagine Wilson's frustration and fear getting the best of him and the man doing something stupid because of it.</p>
<p>The magician curled his fingers gently and pulled his hands on his chest. The pain had faded, most of it, but it was hard not to feel the memory of it still lingering in his flesh.</p>
<p>He really didn't want to make a mistake and make Wilson angry again. It was better to keep him satisfied and pleased.</p>
<p>At least Wilson was taking care of him now. Wilson was protecting him and making sure he was doing well, and he wasn't really trying to tie the older man down or restrain him or anything. Or really touching him all that much, for what it was worth. It made it a bit easier to remember who Wilson really was, that he was only the victim of circumstances and wasn't fully in control of his actions.</p>
<p>There was sifting and a tired groan behind him, and Maxwell rolled on his back again. He could always fake that he was sleeping, it'd be easier to pretend to be unconscious rather than to think his actions through all the time, but he was afraid that Wilson would do something when he wasn't paying attention and it would end up hurting him again in some way. It was better to comply and be submissive.</p>
<p>Wilson woke up, slowly and sluggishly, still huddled deeply inside the blanket, his legs tangled around something thin. He opened his eyes and almost startled himself when he saw Maxwell laying on the ground next to him. Wilson was glad he got to finally sleep inside the tent, safe from the wind and rain and sun. Maxwell however didn't seem to care about his sleeping adjustments much. He didn't seem to care about a number of things anymore, which still worried Wilson more than anything.</p>
<p>It had been a few of weeks already. Maxwell seemed to have made a well recovery. His bruises had mostly faded, the cuts on his neck and chest were completely closed up, and he didn't seem to have any open injuries or inner damage... besides perhaps his broken rib which Wilson tried his best to treat correctly. He was no surgeon, and out here it would be too dangerous to attempt it anyway, but he tried his best to ease the pain and only hoped and wished and even prayed that the bone wouldn't heal wrong.</p>
<p>Maxwell's hands concerned him. His skin had healed and didn't bleed anymore, but much like any other lost limb or body part, his nails were lost until Maxwell either died and was revived again, or when they would possibly grow back on their own, and that could take months. So until then his fingers were very sensitive to the touch and it was hard to do things like sew or craft or anything like that.</p>
<p>Not that Wilson would make Maxwell work at all, he felt accountable to do all the work and make sure his lover (if he still could call him that) was being as comfortable as possible. But after being tied down, unable to do much of anything, it was important and healthy to move and keep the man active, too. Little things, and only a little rest, but it was for the best to not push him too much.</p>
<p>Maxwell was staring at the ceiling of the tent and Wilson wondered if he had even noticed that Wilson had woken up. Though the things had improved between them, they were not on good terms. Maxwell was never making contact with him voluntarily, he avoided speaking and flinched at Wilson's touch and words. Everything Wilson did was followed by a short moment of uncertainty and fear as Maxwell waited for him to lash out in some way, and everything Maxwell did was done with hesitant and cautious movements, testing if he had crossed the line and and Wilson would hurt him again.</p>
<p>It was harrowing to notice how little Maxwell trusted him anymore, how little Maxwell wanted his presence, but Wilson knew it was only natural to hate him after all he did. The shorter man pulled away slowly, and that seemed to finally catch the attention of the older man, who turned his head to face him. Wilson froze and swallowed.</p>
<p>"Morning, Maxwell... Did you... did you sleep well?" he tried to strike up some conversation, something to ease the things up, something to light up the atmosphere. Maxwell didn't answer, which wasn't a surprise anymore, and Wilson sighed shortly. He wasn't really waiting for an answer, nor did he deserve it, but he tried anyway.</p>
<p>"Uh, well. Okay. I'm gonna get up and make some breakfast, okay Maxwell?" he smiled at the other man, dressed himself up and stood to leave, and was almost out of the door when a quiet voice stopped him.</p>
<p>"You've been calling me Maxwell."</p>
<p>Wilson turned to look over his shoulder, and even though the other man was laying still, eyes on the ground, he seemed anxious to have some kind of an answer to his remark. Wilson could almost see the man sweating, his pupils moving ever so slightly as he waited, probably even afraid that Wilson was going to snap at him. He looked like he was waiting for it so he could start apologizing as soon as possible. Something in Wilson's stomach flipped and he tried to muster a carefree, kind smile.</p>
<p>"Yes, I... I want to call you by your name."</p>
<p>Maxwell furrowed his brows for a short moment, a little confused, then just nodded and didn't seem to have anything else in his mind.</p>
<p>The magician watched as Wilson exited the tent and left him to his own solitude. He wasn't sure what to do, he wasn't really sure how to approach the elephant in the room. He really missed Wilson. But he always held himself back, didn't let himself get closer out of some instinct of self-preservation that told him to keep being quiet and still and maybe he would be left alone.</p>
<p>... But maybe he could try to talk to Wilson a bit, since Wilson really seemed to want to make amends. And he seemed to be genuinely remorseful and sorry. Maybe nothing bad would happen after all, if he tried?</p>
<p>Maxwell absentmindedly hugged himself and curled up. He had been acting like Wilson wanted him to, so of course the man wouldn't have hurt him yet, but what if he got too relaxed and did something wrong and upset him? He couldn't be sure that Wilson wasn't going to blow up and start acting violent, he almost expected it, waited for it... <em>wanted</em> it, so he could apologize and then it'd be over and he could breath freely for a while again. This type of uncertainty made him anxious. How was he supposed to know if he was out of line when Wilson wasn't giving him any kind of hints or trying to correct his behavior?</p>
<p>Maxwell let out a strained breath and closed his eyes.</p>
<p>He wanted to trust Wilson again. He wanted to be comfortable in his presence and touch him without having continuous uncertain second thoughts, wanted to talk to him how they used to, how it felt right to, but he just couldn't.</p>
<p>He didn't want to get hurt anymore. At least he was outside again, at least he wasn't tied down, he wasn't held hostage somewhere. Wilson didn't try to touch him too much, didn't get angry when he didn't know what to answer, and Wilson took care of him and didn't seem to want anything in return.</p>
<p>If he kept being a nice pet and kept quiet unless he was spoken to and didn't do anything that he wasn't sure he was allowed to, maybe he could get to keep those nice things for a while longer. He didn't want to risk it. He didn't want to lose whatever little he had again.</p>
<p>... But Wilson had been calling him by his name again. It didn't seem like he wanted to keep him around just to use him as his own personal comfort for whatever he was struggling with, and he wasn't really even trying to treat Maxwell like he owned him anymore.</p>
<p>It was a bit suspicious, but Wilson seemed more like himself again, so maybe this was just how he was going to be from now on? Maxwell wasn't sure, he wasn't sure what to think or how to react to it, so he shook the thoughts out of his mind and just tried not to bother himself with something he wasn't even sure he could affect in the slightest.</p>
<p>He just sat up and rubbed his forehead. He was so tired. Not sleepy, not in need of rest, just... tired. Thoroughly and completely tired of being and living and existing. But there was nothing he could do about it either, so he stubbornly kept ignoring the weariness and glanced at the tent entrance. </p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Wilson walked to the icebox. He felt horrible, which he had been feeling the whole time ever since he was kicked off the throne, but everything Maxwell did and said made the blame bang his chest even louder and harder. Although his memories might've been foggy, he had no doubt of his own wrong doings and if anything, it made things even worse.</p>
<p>He felt like he was trying to get away with his crimes by forgetting, like he was making excuses to himself at this point. Oh, if it could only have been someone else. Someone with total control over his body and mind, someone who didn't give him any power to move or say anything under <em>Their</em> control. But it wasn't the case. It didn't matter that <em>They</em> were using him, whispering to him and making him think that what he was doing was okay and that he was within his rights to do so. Because he was the victim of <em>Them</em>, but Maxwell was victim of him, and two wrongs didn't make a right.</p>
<p>Wilson tossed a bunch of meat and carrots on the crockpot and sat down to wait. He had decided to stay with Maxwell until the man was well enough to get by on his own, and then see if he wanted to leave. Wilson would not force him, but he had a hunch that Maxwell wouldn't want to stay with him any longer than he had to. Wilson understood, he wouldn't want to stay with himself either. He had betrayed the trust of someone who used to love him, had taken the freedom away from the person who wanted nothing as much in this world than his freedom, and hurt him when he had sworn he'd never let anything hurt him.</p>
<p>Yeah, Wilson didn't expect that Maxwell would stay with him. He suspected that even being near him was making the older man uncomfortable, and he would've done him a favor and left, if it wasn't for the fact that Maxwell was in no state of protecting himself alone. So Wilson had to do everything in his power to make sure he would be safe and sound, this time for real and not for his own selfish need to have him around.</p>
<p>Wilson let out a weary breath and grabbed his head with his hands. He was a mess. He had been a mess long before Maxwell had taken him from his home to this world. There were... a lot of things that he had never quite forgotten. Things that hurt. Things that still made him grow cold and want to run away.</p>
<p>Family feuds, rejections, constant belittlement, abandonment, failures... Had he ever been good enough for anyone without pretending he was someone else than he truly was? Never taken seriously, never seen as an equal around his fellow scientist and men, never held in any value, never praised or thanked or... or apologized for. Had someone even once, just for <em>once</em> told him they were sorry for how they had treated him? There was laughter and ill-willed smirks behind his back, yet nobody tried to defend him, not even lent him a comforting shoulder to cry on afterwards. It all got to be just a little bit too heavy on his heart, he was just a one man, he could only handle so much pain before breaking. There were a lot old wounds, badly healed and easy to tear open again. Too many of them to count.</p>
<p>Maxwell had fixed some of it. He had been like a water to his burns and made him feel like he was actually someone of value. Wilson was so, so scared of losing the only person who had ever looked at him and seen <em>something</em>. He didn't need too be much, but he just wanted to be something, someone, <em>anyone</em>, and with Maxwell he had felt like he was more than that. And he had acted on that fear and done unspeakable things in order to keep his comfort close to him.</p>
<p>God he hated himself.</p>
<p>If he had ever though that Maxwell had been cruel and ruthless, then what did that make him? At least Maxwell hadn't pretended that he was doing the terrible things out of love and care. Unlike Wilson.</p>
<p>The man sighed and took the food from crockpot, putting it on couple of plates. He stared at it for a while. He would want nothing as much as to just fix Maxwell, but he knew better. There was no fixing something like this. He could try to help Maxwell, but just like a broken plate, things would never be the same again. He could piece the man back together and treat him carefully, but the damage was already done, the cracks were there and he couldn't make them disappear no matter how much he tried to.</p>
<p>Wilson turned around to bring the food to Maxwell, but instead he almost had a heart-attack when the man had already come out of the tent and was now just standing behind him. Wilson barely kept the food in his hands and made an awkward wiggle in attempt to balance the plates, and let out a sigh of relief when he managed to keep the food from dropping on the ground.</p>
<p>"Th-there, here you go." he cleared his throat and held out the other plate for Maxwell. The man  took a moment before taking the plate from him and nodding his head. Wilson nodded back and walked to sit near the chest.</p>
<p>They didn't usually speak when they ate. They didn't usually speak that much in general anymore. Wilson wanted to change that, but he didn't know if he should. He didn't know if he had the right to. It was bad enough for Maxwell to have to put up with his abuser and Wilson was sure he wouldn't want to increase their communication any more than what was absolutely necessary. And as for himself, he was just too ashamed to say anything in fear he'd be crossing the line again and making Maxwell uncomfortable.</p>
<p>"I was thinking... Could we... Could we go digging up graves today?"</p>
<p>Wilson rose his head and stared at the other man in surprise. It had been a while since Maxwell spoke to him without Wilson engaging the conversation, and Maxwell hardly said anything that would actually lead to anything than one or two answers.</p>
<p>"Uh... S-sure, why not" Wilson stuttered and blinked, still baffled over the sudden request. Maxwell offered him a very fast, very wary smile and looked down almost as fast as he had looked up.</p>
<p>Wilson felt like crying. Maxwell smiled. Maxwell smiled at him.</p>
<p>He didn't know if he felt happy or just horrible, because he would want nothing more than seeing his lover smile again, but he knew he didn't deserve that smile.</p>
<p>But a smile was a good start nonetheless, he supposed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Unwanted things</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's getting a bit easier for Maxwell, but not much for Wilson.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"What are you doing, Max?" Wilson chuckled when the fingertips tickled on his back.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Nothing. Go back to sleep."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson tried to turn, but he was pushed back on his stomach, and there was an unhappy groan behind him "Stop, you're ruin it."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson didn't try to get back up again, instead settled for rising his eyebrow "Ruin what?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The fingers kept moving on his skin, sharp tips of the claws tickling him as they lightly run through his backside making unrecognizable shapes. Wilson smirked softly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Maxwell, are you... drawing on my back?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Shut up, Higgsbury."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Hey, I'm not making fun of you! It's sweet."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maxwell didn't bother answering beyond an irritated grunt, but his fingers never stopped flying over Wilson's skin. The younger man sighed audibly and closed his eyes, letting his partner have fun - out of the two of them, Maxwell was not usually the one who started doing something innocently childish like this. It made Wilson's stomach flutter like a flock of butterflies. Knowing that Maxwell trusted him enough, was comfortable enough to be silly like this, gave the scientist the new kind of warmth in his chest. It was like a sun had risen inside him, and suddenly Wilson realized how alive everything was when Maxwell was with him, how bright and warm and gentle he felt all over.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"What is it?" he mumbled and crooked his legs up, wiggling them in the air.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Wouldn't you like to know, pet" Wilson heard grin on Maxwell's voice and whined at him like a misbehaving kid.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Tell me, I want to knooow."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You are supposed to guess." Maxwell sighed and pulled his finger away.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"It's me."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maxwell was quiet.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"...It's me, isn't it?" Wilson tried again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"...Yes." Maxwell said with a no-it-is-not-you-you-moron-voice and leaned down to kiss his neck "You are so smart, love."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson snorted, grinning like an idiot.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Or then you are just a very talented artist."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You flatter me, Higgsbury." Maxwell laughed, sweeping his knuckles on Wilson's shoulder plates. Wilson rolled on his back and hooked Maxwell's neck between his hands, gazing lazily in his dark, watchful eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You are very articulative today. Love, pet, Higgsbury... That's a lot of names for a one man."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maxwell rose his eyebrows playfully and smirked.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"If you aren't pleased with the names I give you, what would you prefer to be called then?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson looked at him, and slowly gave him a very small, shy smile.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Wilson."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It wasn't often when Maxwell's smirk was swiped away, and Wilson never knew when or how it would happen, but it was always that one rare moment when Maxwell looked like himself more than he ever had before.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man let a much softer, gentler smile tug the corner of his mouth. He run his thumb on Wilson's lower lip and leaned to kiss his ear "Wilson."</em>
</p><p><br/>
---</p><p><br/>
Apparently Maxwell just liked walking now.</p><p>Maybe it had a little something to do with the fact that the man had not been able to move when or where he wanted for months, but it was kind of distracting to try to keep an eye on someone who could suddenly just wander off on his own without any notification like a freaking cat. Not that Wilson wanted to restrain him, no, not ever again, but he was <em>worried</em>. One moment Maxwell would stand next to him, and Wilson would turn his back and continue on his chores and then take a look to see if the man was doing okay, only to realize that he was not anywhere to be seen. The scientist just couldn't rest until he was sure that Maxwell was okay and nothing was wrong, and it was getting very stressful to run around looking for the man from heaven knows where.</p><p>Their little trip to dig up the graves had been some kind of a stepping stone for the older man. Wilson stood nearby and kept watch, since he wasn't comfortable going near the cemetery and it made his skin crawl, the discomfort growing stronger the closer the graves he was, but Maxwell seemed to have the time of his life. He spend his sweet time digging up gems and nightmare fuel, a small smile appearing on his face every time he dug up something he liked. The rest of the junk, such as the broken toys and lost items, he left behind where he'd found them.</p><p>Wilson had made a mental note to go and collect the rest of the stuff later, when he'd have enough time to go find the pig king, but now he wondered if he even had time to do anything else than worry over Maxwell's whereabouts when the man wandered somewhere alone.</p><p>The scientist felt the stone fall from his heart when he found Maxwell standing near the puddle, just gazing down into the water. There were no frogs, luckily, so Wilson slowed down his steps as to not scare the older man and walked beside him. He moved his eyes from Maxwell to the puddle and back, until he carefully opened his mouth.</p><p>"Um, what are you doing here, Maxwell?"</p><p>Maxwell didn't flinch anymore, but he tensed up for a long moment, until letting his shoulders untense slowly and finally let out a sigh. He rubbed his face and held his hands on his arms, giving himself a hug, and offered Wilson a small shrug "I... I think I have forgotten how I look like."</p><p>Wilson wanted to really punch himself. Instead he rubbed Maxwell's arm softly, and the man winced only a little at his touch. The puddle didn't offer a clear reflection, but then again, it's not like the Constant was full of reflective surfaces anyway.</p><p>"...I could try to craft a mirror." the shorter man offered sheepishly "I'm sure that with the power of science I am able to make one, and I can give it to you, if you want."</p><p>Maxwell gave him a small laugh.</p><p>"It's hard when you can't just make stuff appear out of the thin air, isn't it?"</p><p>Wilson pulled his hand away and bowed his head down. He took a small breath and readied himself to apologize, because he could never apologize enough, until Maxwell surprisingly kept talking "I miss being able to do a lot of things. I'm not able to do much without <em>Them</em>."</p><p>Wilson glanced at him. Maxwell had been able to do a lot when he had sat on the throne, but not nearly as much as Wilson had originally thought. His own time on the throne had taught him that yes, even the King was bound to the board, and even the King, no matter how glorious his kingdom or great his reign, was limited with his own powers. Wilson only wished <em>he</em> had been more limited than he was, maybe then he couldn't have done such horrible things.</p><p>And Maxwell would be able to do much more if Wilson gave him back the Codex Umbra. He knew he had no right to keep it away from Maxwell, but he was so scared of what would happen if he gave it back. He kept telling himself that he was just keeping it safe and Maxwell would have it back as soon as he was better, as soon as he didn't need Wilson to take care of him anymore, as soon as...</p><p>Wilson swallowed the bitter taste down his throat. The fact was that he would become useless as soon as Maxwell got his book back. Maxwell didn't want him, but at least the man still needed him.</p><p>After a while of just staring into the abyss of the puddle Wilson shook the accusing, hurtful thoughts away and just took Maxwell's arm to his own quietly and sighed.</p><p>"Come on, I... I think we should go gather some resources... okay?"</p><p>Maxwell nodded and just followed him back towards the campsite.</p><p>It was a bit relieving for Wilson to see Maxwell getting better, if ever so slowly and small bits at time, but still, a progress was progress no matter how small. He had stopped worrying over how much Maxwell was hurting and more over the fact that Maxwell still flinched at his touch, still seemed to hold his words back before speaking, still didn't feel comfortable enough to relax around Wilson.</p><p>And who could blame him? Not Wilson, he knew it was completely justified, from the smallest things to the biggest ones.</p><p>Still, a few days ago, when one night Maxwell actually touched him when he probably thought that Wilson was asleep, the younger man was almost frightened. Maxwell didn't touch him anymore, and it was better that way, and it somehow stung that he would only do so when Wilson was asleep. He didn't even want to reach out to him when he would be aware of it.</p><p>The scientist was expecting the touch to be fearful, disgusted, hesitant to even come near him, but it wasn't. Maxwell touched him like he used to, like he touched Wilson before all this. His touch felt so sure and confident, like he had never been hurt or betrayed by the person he was running his fingers over. His touch was firm and owning, fingers caressing Wilson's cheek like he knew the power he hold over the younger man, like he knew that Wilson was his.</p><p>And Wilson kept is eyes shut, kept laying still, but he wanted so, so madly and desperately to lean to the touch and cry and beg for Maxwell to forgive him and please don't leave him alone and tell him how much he needed to be needed, he needed to be wanted, and even if it would be fake could Maxwell just pretend that he was something more than the defective mockery of the scientist that he was.</p><p>But then the hand drew away and Wilson let go of his urge to get closer. He didn't deserve it, he didn't deserve to have those fond, caring and warm moments with Maxwell anymore.</p><p>Maybe he never had.</p><p>Maybe he had always been like this, always been a horrible person and didn't even realize it, and that's why Maxwell really tricked him into building the portal, so he could be taken away from people who didn't want him because he didn't deserve to be wanted and he was better kept somewhere where he could not make any more mistakes...</p><p>Yet he had still made more mistakes. How sad. He was sad, and not even in a funny or pitiful way. Just in the irritating, useless way. He was sad in a way the used, weather-soaked, rugged on the edges, tattered and trodden handkerchief was sad. Not something you really felt pity of compassion for. Just something to be thrown away somewhere where other useless, needles and unwanted things ended up in.</p><p>Even the trinkets that Maxwell left behind to the graveyard had more use than he did. At least they could be traded, given to someone who valued them more than gold even if no one else saw them as nothing more than a junk. Perhaps, once, Maxwell had seen him as more than just a junk, too. Perhaps once he had been more valuable than the most valued currency to the older man, but he had no doubt that that time was left in the past now. Maxwell wouldn't hold him to the same standarts as he once did. Wilson would be left behind like any other broken, useless trinket, forgotten, rusting away until the death came to take him. </p><p>Wilson forced himself to tear his mind away from that one night. They had gathered resources enough to call it a day, and he had started to work on a blueprint to make a mirror. It had occurred to him that perhaps it wasn't healthy for Maxwell to only be able to see Wilson, the only company he had the option to have, and maybe the mirror could actually lift his spirits a little over time. He remembered the first time he had seen another person besides Maxwell after a long, looong time without any other person to see, to feel, to talk to. He wanted to give Maxwell at least something else to watch.</p><p>He glanced over his shoulder where Maxwell sat on the ground and put their thing in the chests. The man looked almost peaceful, almost even calm at the moment, concentrated on his task and not paying attention to Wilson. It was a good sign that his only two moods weren't nervous and alert, and unresponsive and apathetic all the time around Wilson anymore. It was a long way to go, to get even near to being better, but Wilson had to count every step forward as a progress. Otherwise he would lose himself to the fear that he had, no doubt, destroyed Maxwell and whatever he had ever once been forever.</p><p>The tall man stood up and, after seemingly hesitating a bit, tried to sweep the dust off his knees, wincing as his sensitive fingertips accidentally pressed too hard on the fabric. Wilson smiled, thought the emotion was somewhat forced. He had to think forward, he had to make sure Maxwell was well and healed and able to survive without him.</p><p>Maybe then, after he had made it absolutely sure that the man was good to go, he'd go as well. Somewhere where the rest of the unwanted things went, where ever that might be.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The flashback of this chapter was probably my favorite of them all to write for some reason, I was waiting for it lol. Cutesy couple things are sometimes fun to write and read.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The wrong name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Just when it looks like that things are starting to go right again, both Wilson and Maxwell get an unpleasant reminder that it's not that easy.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Wilson had never known how good it would feel to just be close to someone else. He didn't think it mattered to him before, but now that there was someone who wanted to be close to him, it felt so different. It felt important, it felt natural, comforting, good. Right.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He snuggled closer to the chest and let the arms wrap tighter around him, an acknowledging hum coming from the other man. Maxwell never slept. It had something to do with the whole 'being the King' thing. Wilson really wanted to know more about it, more about Maxwell, but the taller man seemed very defensive and almost uncomfortable when he asked, so after a while he cut the questions down a bunch. He was content just being close like this, if Maxwell wanted to keep his secrets, Wilson wouldn't pry - yet. He could find appropriate time to ask his questions.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He was used to being interested in other men, for many different reasons, not just because he had this unnatural want towards them. He felt like there was so many things he was missing out because he had always been alone in his wreck of a house. He hardly even knew how grown men in the society should act or talk, and it drew a deep, thick line between him and the rest of them. Meeting people like Woodie or Wolfgang didn't particularly make him feel better as it only make it clearer how unmanly he was compared to them - his only saving grace seemed to be his beard, thank heavens for the ability to grow one (he knew that not all the men apparently were capable of growing even a mustache).</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Yes, he was used to being interested in other men in many ways. What he wasn't used to however, was when another man was interested in him. There were many reason he could start listing, but he decided not to, as to not bring himself down because of it.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell was very interested in him. So much so that he couldn't always keep his big, crooked nose out of the business that wasn't his to worry about, but even then it was kind of flattering to know that someone found Wilson interesting enough to always bother him. And Maxwell was interested in him because of him. Not because he was this lonely weirdo in the woods, not because he was kicked out of the school, not because he was the infamous black sheep of his family, but because he was... he was just Wilson.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell huffed warm air on his face when he rose his gaze up to look at the man, who he knew wasn't sleeping, but was still laying beside him eyes closed and taking in a slow, collected breaths. Wilson wasn't sure how it felt to be loved, but he assumed this was the closest thing to it that he would ever get to experience. He pecked a light kiss on the Shadow King's chin and snuggled his head under his jaw. If it was like this, he wasn't going to complain.  </em>
</p>
<p><br/>---</p>
<p><br/>Wilson had managed to get Maxwell near the field to set up the traps and gather the grass while he kept an eye out for the beefalo in case there would be a weakling he could trick away from the herd. It was never too early to start gathering wool for the winter clothes, and he had noticed that their current blankets and fur rolls started to get a little ragged from the use as well.</p>
<p>He watched the frail man crafting the traps slowly and, for once, concentrated on his task. He seemed calm and unbothered, gloved hands moving in practiced movements when he finished one trap and started another. Wilson leaned on his spear and smiled softly. The sight of the other man smiling made butterflies flutter in his stomach as if he'd just yesterday fallen in love, the feeling of the other man's smile still being the desired novelty. Only when Maxwell rose his head up to look at him did Wilson turn his eyes away, his face getting red and nervously tapping the handle of his spear.</p>
<p>He didn't want the man to get the idea that he was keeping a watch over him. Well, he short of was, but not because Maxwell shouldn't do anything without his approval. He didn't want the other man to think that he was trying to intrude where he wasn't wanted.</p>
<p>"You know" the older man started hesitantly after a while, and turned his gaze back to the trap as well "I've been thinking... do you remember when you built the portal?"</p>
<p>Wilson blinked at him, a little confused.</p>
<p>"Uhh... Yeah, I do. I mean, how could I not, it's the literal reason of why I'm here" he laughed awkwardly and rubbed his neck, and was pleased to see Maxwell huffing out a small barely audible laughter as well.</p>
<p>"Maybe if the portal brought you here, a portal could bring you out, too." Maxwell said, each word leaving his lips very slowly, as if he himself was not really sure with the idea he had in his mind, and he glanced at Wilson quickly under his eyebrows. The scientist squinted, thinking.</p>
<p>"I suppose so... The doors are not usually one way passes, it'd be logical that you could travel both ways through them." he tapped his chin, a thoughtful expression on his face "But I've tried, and the portal isn't activating anymore... It only ever led me here once and then it shut down completely. Same thing with the doors to the other levels, they let me go only one way."</p>
<p>Maxwell rubbed his chin, eyes still on the trap he was meddling with "Hmm. Perhaps that particular portal won't work, but if there is a way in, and I know there are several, then there is sure to be a way out as well."</p>
<p>Wilson's eyes started to glimmer, and he crouched next to Maxwell.</p>
<p>"You're right! There's got to be a way out somewhere, we just haven't found it yet, we just haven't looked from the right places! I mean, you <em>must</em> be right!" he was grinning like an idiot, excited by the previously dimmed hope that had now gotten a light to it's flame again. Maxwell offered him a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.</p>
<p>"Not so fast, pal... This is a world without any doors out. How do you get out of a house without any doors?"</p>
<p>Wilson cocked his head and bit his lip. The obvious answer was never the first one, and in this place surely not the first logical one.</p>
<p>"You... you <em>build</em> a door?"</p>
<p>A nod.</p>
<p>"You have built one in the past, haven't you?"</p>
<p>Wilson slammed his fist into his palm and opened his mouth to gasp in excitement.</p>
<p>"Yes! I <em>did</em> built that first portal! If I could make a way in, I can surely make a way out too! Max you are ingenious!" he jumped to kiss his cheek and leaned away, not even noticing the confused and hesitant touch of the glove on the spot of his kiss "I have some paper here just in case- Man, I haven't thought about that first portal in ages, I'm not sure if I remember the details... But I'm sure we can make a do with what we have! You gave me the necessary information the first time too so that's good now that we both are here, I'm sure we'll work well together and I do learn fast if I say so myself- Oh! And we might need to run some test on things but that's to be expected and I need to get my hands on some wires..."</p>
<p>The badly held-back snort of laughter pulled him away from his rambling, and he turned to see Maxwell giving him a half-smirk.</p>
<p>"I haven't heard your dumb science ranting for a long time."</p>
<p>"Well, I haven't got a chance to talk about science for a while!" Wilson protested, his cheeks burning up a bit at the smirk on Maxwell's face.</p>
<p>"Well it's not like someone is stopping you now, Higgsbury-"</p>
<p>The excitement that had filled the air disappeared in and instant as the silence fell over them, oppressing and suffocating like the upcoming thunder in the air. The smile, what little it had been, faded from Maxwell's face as his eyes widened and his body tensed up when his mind caught up with the name that he let slip out of his mouth. The man stiffed up, his shoulder's rising and limps freezing in place, one hand rising to hover over his chest to touch the scars there.</p>
<p>Wilson caught up only a second too slowly, and as he opened his mouth to tell Maxwell that it was okay and leaned closer to assure him that everything was fine, the man flinched away and looked at him like a frightened wild animal.</p>
<p>"....Wil-Wilson, Wilson, I said Wilson." he sputtered out so quickly that the shorter man hadn't even enough time to let out a single sound, just hang open his mouth and reach his hand to comfort the magician, but Maxwell winched and backed away from him in panic until his back hit the tree and his escape came to a stop. Wilson stood up and hurried over.</p>
<p>"It's okay Maxwell, I don't car-"</p>
<p>"No, Wilson I swear I said Wilson, you're Wilson I- I'm sorry I didn't mean to, I swear-" Maxwell kept telling him, all tensed up and trying to sink inside the tree trunk behind his back, staring at him with wild eyes, barely even blinking. Wilson shook his head, almost as panicked as his companion, and rose his hands to bring Maxwell into a hug, to show that he wasn't gonna hurt the other man "It's okay, Maxwell, it's fine, you can call me by my-"</p>
<p>"Please don't," the man flinched, closing his eyes and covering his mouth with his hands "Please Wilson, please don't I, I won't say it anymore... I will be a good pet please don't please..."</p>
<p>Wilson's hands froze in place, his face twisted into a painful frown.</p>
<p>"I'm not... I'm not <em>going to</em> hurt you, Max. It's fine, you can call me whatever you want now" he tried to sound steady, but it was betrayed by his cracking voice, the lump in his throat pressuring him to choke down the words, holding back what he wanted to say. He landed his hands on Maxwell's shoulders in attempt to still offer some comfort to him, but the man pushed his own hands on Wilson's arms and kept him from coming closer, fingers digging into his skin softly. A way too softly.</p>
<p>"Wilson please, please- I didn't forget I- please, Wilson, don't...."</p>
<p>Wilson had never hated to hear his own name as much as he did right now. He bit his lip and just looked at Maxwell, voice lost, the words forgotten, just absolutely desperate to make this all go away, but without any way to do so. He couldn't comfort the man with gentleness, not when he was pushed away with shaking, scared movements, and he knew there was nothing he could say to ease Maxwell's mind. How many times had he told Maxwell that it was okay and everything was fine while hurting him the same time? His words were hollow, they held no promises that could be trusted.</p>
<p>Quietly he let himself fall on the ground and hung his head on Maxwell's knees, thrusting his eyes close. He couldn't help himself, even if it made him feel selfish and terrible, he just couldn't help himself. He started crying.</p>
<p>He just wanted to take everything back, wanted to make it so he had never grown so attached to Maxwell, never hurt him, never done the horrible things he did, never made this whole mess. He could've done anything to turn back the clock to prevent this. But he couldn't, there was nothing he could do to stop this, nothing he could do to fix this. Nothing, there was nothing he could do, nothing, nothing. Nothing.</p>
<p>Wilson swallowed a thick choking feeling accompanied with bundle of tears down his throat and rose his head to look at Maxwell. The man was staring at him, fearfully, confused and alert. His chest was rising up and down in withheld panic, the whole body tense and prepared to defend himself against Wilson, run away, but too afraid to do either.</p>
<p>The scientist wanted to reach out to him, hug him, kiss him, cry inside his arms and beg for forgiveness, but some part of him already knew that he had lost this battle. There was nothing he could do. He was only doing more harm by just being near the older man, he was only making things worse.</p>
<p>With a shuddering breath and a sniff the man let go of Maxwell and stood up, walked to his backpack and started searching. When he turned back around, Maxwell's expression turned from terrifyed to surprised when he saw what Wilson was holding in his arms. The younger man walked back to him and crouched down on his level. He gave Maxwell an empty, emotionless smile, and offered Codex to him.</p>
<p>"Take it." he said, almost pleadingly, holding the tome in his hands and waiting for Maxwell to take it. The man just sat there, his eyes darting between Wilson and the book. Finally, after a long while, he hesitantly rose his arms and touched the book, and Wilson loosened his grip to give it away. It was not his, after all.</p>
<p>Maxwell huddled Codex close to his chest, letting out drained sigh and pulled his feet to his body. Wilson just sat there, feeling oddly calm and overwhelmed at the same time. This was better. This was right, as right as it could be at this point. He couldn't do anything else, he couldn't heal Maxwell or fix the broken fragments of their relationship, but he could let the man make his own choices, even if they'd include hurting him. He'd deserve it, he'd not fight it.</p>
<p>Still, he could not leave. He tried to reason it for himself, that Maxwell was far better off without him, that his presence was much too toxic for the other man to be around, but he just sat there, empty and given up and unable to leave the person he loved.</p>
<p>"...Why are you... giving this to me?" Maxwell asked, still huddled into a small space, pressing as close to the tree trunk behind his back as he could, voice full of suspicion. Wilson snorted out a laugh that borderlined a sob.</p>
<p>"Because it's yours. I, I shouldn't have taken it in the first place. I'm sorry." He knew that an apology would fix nothing. He knew that Maxwell had already gone beyond his reach, he knew nothing he did would help, but the apology was the least he could do. He let the dull smile rose on his lips "I'm sorry. If I can do anything at all, just ask me, I will. I know I can't make this undone, but I... I want to-"</p>
<p>He wanted to say he'd want to make this up to Maxwell, but it would suggest that he was actually <em>able to</em> do something to make things up to him someway.</p>
<p>"-I want to let you do what you want. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."</p>
<p>Wilson felt the streams flowing down his cheeks, leaving warm, salty lines behind, but he just smiled "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I can't help you, I can't protect you, I... I'm just hurting you more, aren't I? I'm sorry." He could say it all he wanted, but the words were as empty and unhelpful as his pathetic tries to fight <em>Them</em> on the throne. He was empty and unhelpful and pathetic. Nothing had changed.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry." He just repeated. And repeated again. And again, and again, until his eyes were burning and irritated from tears and his cheeks dried from the salt and his throat hoarse and wiry, his nose stuffy and clogged, and he was not sure how long he had sat there and repeated the words that would not fix a thing or bring either of them any relief.</p>
<p>He cried so long he eventually tired himself out, passing out leaning over Maxwell's knees, lips still slightly moving with guilt and regret, voicelessly wording his apology out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. I'm sorry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Maxwell thinks about things, and Wilson is just sorry.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"Is it dangerous?" Wilson asked, peeking his nose over Maxwell's shoulder, curiously but suspiciously watching the small, worm-like shadow on the ground. It looked familiar, yet Wilson knew he hadn't seen this one before, probably. It wasn't like the big ones that attacked him when his sanity crashed to the ground, or the one that just watched him from the distance away, and it definitely wasn't the cursed hands that wanted to steal his fire. It was much smaller, and it looked somewhat less hostile than the others of it's kind.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"It can be." Maxwell simply answered, and as usual, his reply offered no actual information what so ever. Anything could be described as 'it can be something', and it would never give any real picture of the nature of the thing. Wilson could be dangerous, but it was unlikely, so if asked, nobody would say he was. Maxwell could be dangerous, and it was much more likely, so he actually could be described as such. But simply saying that it can be dangerous? Yeah, no shit. A rock can be dangerous if used correctly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"...So, will it be dangerous to me?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maxwell lowered his hand and the small shadow slithered into his palm like a pet lizard.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Would you like to find out?" the man smirked and lifted the shadow closer to Wilson, who just crouched behind the King's back and shook his head. The older man laughed at his reaction and let the shadow creature climb on his shoulder to examine the scientist in turn.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Don't worry, It won't do anything." Maxwell said calmly, and after a short while Wilson gathered enough courage to lean closer and inspect the shadow with the same amount of interest that it inspected him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"What do you call it?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Mr. Skitts."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson was about to make a comment about the 'Mr.' part, but before he was able to say anything, Mr. Skitts disappeared and re-appeared on top of his head. Then something clicked in Wilson's head, and the man gasped.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Oh! I have seen this before! It flies in and out of the obelisks!" The man exclaimed, watching the creature that had lowered it's head, hanging before his face upside down, watching him just as curiously. Wilson was fascinated beyond measure, he had never had an opportunity to see a shadow creature up close, let alone touch one (well, not without being severely injured in the process).</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"They're pretty tame, like to watch but are afraid of people. Normally, should you approach one, it would disappear very fast." Maxwell explained and gained a couple of focused hums from the other man.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"How come this isn't running away?" Wilson asked, cocking his head, his eyes still on the shadow that had moved to carefully investigate his arms, which Wilson allowed, finding the creature actually kinda cute.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Well, I am the King. I control all of the shadows."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson nodded. It made sense that the shadows would obey their master, even if it would usually go against their nature. He supposed that it applied to many other creatures in the Constant too.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You control them, huh? Can you show me what you can do?" Wilson finally pried his eyes away from Mr. Skitts, and a sly, crooked smile rose to Maxwell's lips when the man leaned face to face with him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You have no idea of the things I could show you."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson didn't know how what the hell that meant, but despite his anxiety, some little part inside him was very determined to find out.</em>
</p><p><br/>---</p><p><br/>Maxwell watched Wilson as the man's sobbing slowly quieted down and eventually turned into a silent snoring with occasional sniff and shuddering inhale. He was not sure what to do with the man now. Except maybe take him back to campsite before it turned dark, he supposed.</p><p>Maxwell moved the unconscious man carefully from his legs and glanced at Codex. He hadn't even thought about not having it for a while, but now that he had it again, he felt like a part of him had returned. Granted, not necessary a very pleasant part, but the part that he needed, the part that made him feel secure and strong in some way. He turned his eyes to Wilson, only briefly, before returning to stare at the book in his hands.</p><p>So, he had Codex now, it had returned where it belonged. He had his book back, he had his <em>power</em> back. He moved his eyes to Wilson again, cracking the cover of the tome open...</p><p>Then, with a careful, slow hands he sighed and tugged it away, this time safely under his jacket where it belonged, where he felt it warmly pressing against him like a friend. It was comforting. He felt more secure when he had it there.</p><p>Maxwell took a breath and looked at Wilson again. He cocked his head and reached his hand to sweep the stray hairs away from Wilson's face, and gently brushed his ravenhair before slipping his arms under him and lifting his small frame up. He didn't want to wake the younger man up, but he didn't want to sit here out in the open, where whatever dangerous creatures that were lurking in the Constant might attack them.</p><p>Maxwell stopped and tensed up when Wilson let out a small whine and leaned his head on his chest, fingers grasping lightly his shirt, still out cold. Maxwell stayed still for a while, just waiting. He had no idea what he was waiting for, but he felt safer like that, safer when he was absolutely sure he hadn't done anything to anger Wilson. And then he sighed when he remembered that Wilson was, first of all, asleep, and that he was not the King anymore, nor had he hurt Maxwell even once after his reign as a King had ended.</p><p>The man dropped his gaze onto the man in his arms. Wilson was not sleeping peacefully, nor was he looking like he was having pleasant dreams. The shorter man had his brows drawn together in distraught expression, his lips frowning, twitching his eyelids every so often, fingers slowly clenching and unclenching every now and then.</p><p>There were a lot of things that Maxwell felt towards the man.</p><p>He loved Wilson. He loved him more than he had ever loved anyone, but he was also angry. No, perhaps not angry, just bitter. Or perhaps he was both. He was hurt, and he couldn't deny how much it stung that Wilson had hurt him the way he did. But Maxwell felt sorry for the man, he couldn't deny that he felt empathy for him. He had been controlled by <em>Them</em> too, he had <em>Them</em> whispering, taunting, mocking and suggesting in his head, he let them use him and he had given away parts of him that <em>They</em> didn't want. But he had sat on the throne for longer than he wanted to think about, and he had more control over himself because he had time to learn to fight <em>Them</em>.</p><p>He had time to regain control as much as he had time to lose it.</p><p>But Wilson had already been broken when he reached the throne. He had been hurt, he had been lost, and he had suffered too much. It wasn't at all difficult to imagine that <em>They</em> could easily wrap the foggy veil over his eyes and numb away the needless, humane parts they didn't have use for. And Wilson, poor, well-meaning, kind Wilson took his place on the throne in order to save him. He couldn't have known what would happen afterwards, it was not his fault. At least not any more than it was Maxwell's.</p><p>The man sighed and started walking.</p><p>He didn't know what to do.</p><p>He wasn't sure where to go from here. He didn't want to leave Wilson. Yet he wanted to run away from him. He wanted to touch him but his touch burned. He missed his enthusiasm and excitement, but he got uncomfortable when he moved too fast or suddenly. He wanted to hear his voice, but he was afraid what the words meant.</p><p>Things had become so difficult. Maxwell furrowed his brows. He didn't like when things became difficult.</p><p>He should've never gotten here, he should've never listened to <em>Them</em>, never sat on the throne, never made this place to what it currently was. He looked down on the man he was holding. And now Wilson was here with him. And part of him was happy that the man he had fallen in love with was still here, still with him, still within his reach. But the other part of him was afraid of what was still yet to come. He couldn't protect Wilson like this, not anymore, and Wilson could not protect him either.</p><p>They reached the campsite and Maxwell carried Wilson inside the tent, placed him on the bed and sat down to watch him. Wilson turned on his side and curled up into a small ball, huddling his arms close to his chest and pressing his face on his shoulder. He looked just as pathetic and weak as a mouse. It was weird, Maxwell thought tiredly, because Wilson was not pathetic or weak. He was very many things, but neither of those. The man touched Codex through the fabric of his clothes.</p><p>He didn't know what to do.</p><p>He wasn't sure what to think about many things anymore, not sure how or when or even what had happened to him, what had changed. He never thought he was going to be this... this frightened and frail thing he had become. It was hard being in control of himself when his thoughts were constantly wandering, when he couldn't really keep his mind together, when he would suddenly get stroke with a memory of something unpleasant, coming without a warning, disguised as one wrong word, one unpleasant touch, and send him to panic.</p><p>Beside him Wilson stirred and let out a mumble. He moved his other hand to touch the bed, searching with his fingers. Maxwell let the pain filled smile swim on his lips and laid next to the other man, placing his hand over his. Wilson didn't waste time when he grasped Maxwell's hand on his own and pulled it against his chest, cuddling it in his sleep, a quiet mumble leaving his lips. Maxwell looked at his uneasy, restless face. He didn't know what to do anymore. Wilson meant so much to him, but he didn't feel safe around the man. He didn't think Wilson felt safe either.</p><p>Maxwell crawled closer and wrapped his other arm over the sleeping man, snuggling his nose on his messy hair. He remembered when Wilson would sleep like this, hidden under his jacket, safely there, afraid of shadows in his vision, flinching at the whispers that he heard, paranoid, panicked. He would bury his face against Maxwell's chest and whimper quietly until he fell asleep. Maxwell missed that, he missed when Wilson's touch would make him tingly and warm, he missed when he didn't startle at his voice.</p><p>Maxwell sat up and let go of Wilson's hand, which pulled a displeased whine from the short man's lips. The older man smiled at him, then pulled Codex out and took a long, calming breath. </p><p>He didn't remember how long he had been without the tome, but he had faith in himself - he had not lost his power, he knew he hadn't, not completely. With a turn of the page and help of a nightmare fuel he summoned a shadow. The shadow was not quite what it should be, a little bit too transparent, little bit too unfit to be his, but it was better than nothing. It was better than being without.</p><p>"Go make a fire and stay guard." Maxwell commanded, and for a second he felt uncertain when the shadow just sat there for a while without any reaction, until it eventually stood up and looked at him, looked at Wilson, then turned around and left the tent. Maxwell waited until he heard the rattling of the flames and the orange hue painted one of the walls of the tent, and the man let out a sigh. Good, he still got it, he still had power. He had not lost the control all the way.</p><p>The man leaned back down, placing his arm back over his younger companion and snuggled closer, looking at his face. To his surprise and mild horror, Wilson looked back.</p><p>They stared at each other for a short, silent, tense while. Maxwell growing more uncomfortable every second, reminding himself that Wilson was not going to hurt him and Wilson had never wanted to hurt him in the first place, but still alarmed, still ready to bolt back if the man as much as looked at him the wrong way, did anything to harm him, while Wilson stared at him with confused, uncertain and worried eyes.</p><p>"Why-" the man started but Maxwell just thrust his eyes close and pressed Wilson against his chest, tensing up and biting his teeth together tightly, waiting. It was okay, he was just gonna pretend that things were how they used to be, Wilson would be inside his arms and need his protection, and he was still the King, he ran this show, nothing could hurt him and Wilson was gentle and kind and things were like they used to be.</p><p>Wilson, too, tensed up in his hold, laying there quietly, not moving a muscle.</p><p>For a while nothing else made a sound but the firepit.</p><p>"...I'm sorry" the frail whisper was said in so small and weak voice that Maxwell had to wonder for a while if he had only imagined it. But he knew he hadn't, it was the same broken record, same repeated phrase Wilson had fallen asleep muttering, said with the same desperation and self-loathing. Maxwell pressed the young man closer inside his arms, and Wilson let out a small sob.</p><p>"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry..."</p><p>Maxwell expected the other man to try to hold him back, wrap his arms around him and cling to his clothes, but Wilson didn't. He didn't move his arms or legs, not even his head. He just laid there, repeating his guilt over and over and letting out sobs so much so that the older man started to fear that Wilson was going to choke on them.</p><p>He didn't know what to do.</p><p>He just laid there, arms frozen around Wilson and eyes staring into the distance, to something he couldn't see. He felt the smaller body trembling through the sobs, the lips pressed against his shirt, speaking and leaving wet spot of saliva when Wilson whimpered out the words in his quiet voice.</p><p>It got later and later, and every once in a while Wilson fell silent, only inhaling a shuddering wet weeps and heaving the air to his lungs. Then he started again, until the circle repeated, throughout the whole evening.</p><p>Maxwell felt cold. He felt hot. He was very confused, but for a change he was not as frightened as he usually was. It was kind of difficult to fear someone who couldn't seem to get his shit together and drove himself into a loop of apologies and couldn't break away from it.</p><p>Maxwell lowered is head and pushed his forehead on top of Wilson's head. The man stopped, this time clearly in a response to his movement, but didn't do anything else.</p><p>"I know. <em>They</em> have... <em>They</em> have ways to take away everything that makes you 'you'."</p><p>There was a quiet inhale which resulted in a sudden pause, as if Wilson was about to say something, answer him, but couldn't. When he spoke again, his words didn't surprise Maxwell in the slightest.</p><p>"I'm sorry."</p><p>They both laid in silence the rest of the night. Maxwell kept staring at nothing, thoughts circling in his head and a quietly weeping man in his arms.</p><p>... He didn't know what to do.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Helpless things</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Maxwell has time to think and wanders out of the camp.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Wilson sat on the grass, making a garland to himself and humming some tune he had perhaps heard somewhere before, a long time ago, but the lyrics and the name of the song were lost in the past. There was a gentle, pleasurably warm breeze, and Wilson could feel his head getting clearer, his mood lifting just from picking the flowers and fiddling them into a crown.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The air smelled like a dirt and pineneedles and berries. It was calming, which was exactly what Wilson needed right now. But there was something else too, something that didn't belong. Smoke? Wilson rose his gaze away from the garland in his hands. He didn't need to wait for long when a large, dark hand landed on his shoulder.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Say pal, you really should be more careful. Don't know what monsters could sneak up on you when you're distracted like that."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson smiled at the teasing voice behind him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You mean the monsters like you? Oh I'm very prepared for that, trust me." He shook the hand away from his shoulder, but it only lowered on his arm and soon the scientist felt the body pressing on his back.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Is that so?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson leaned his head back, looking up at Maxwell's smirking face. He gave the man a smirk of his own, and turned his attention back to the garland, tied the last flower tightly in place and rose it up on the head of the man behind him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I can take care of myself. You sound like you need this more than I do. Why are you here? I'm kind of busy at the moment..."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell's signature smirk faded away, his features darkening. Every bit of mockery changed into a grim worry.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I know what you are doing, Higgsbury. I came here to ask you to stop before you do something we both will regret." the man said with stone cold expression, but Wilson heard the pleading tone in his voice, hiding behind the authority as the demon stared down at him. Wilson furrowed his brows, turning to face Maxwell properly.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Why? I can do this, you said it yourself; if anyone is able to reach the throne, it's me!" he exclaimed in frustration, a little blush of irritation and desperation burning his cheeks "Why wouldn't you want that? Don't you want to finally meet for real?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The long, slender fingers brushed through his hair and landed on his cheek, and Wilson pressed into that comfortless touch. Maxwell shook his head, watching the other man eye to eye "There are things I can't speak of, but what I can tell you is that you won't like what you'll find if you set on that journey. You think you know what lays ahead, but there is nothing for you in there."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson bit his lip, shaking his head defiantly. He wouldn't have this. He knew what he was doing, and Maxwell, his Maxwell, was somewhere in there, and he had already decided to find him so they could finally be together.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"No. No, I will find you and I will-"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Pet." Maxwell's voice became lower, softer, and his hands pulled Wilson's head under his chin, lowering his head to rest on top of the messy, spiky haircut "I peg you. Don't walk through that door."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson only sighed, placing his own hands over the larger, gloved ones.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I'm sorry Max. I gotta try."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There was an amused, choked down chuckle from the older man "I wouldn't expect anything less from my favorite scientist."</em>
</p>
<p><br/>---</p>
<p><br/>Maxwell didn't sleep. But, he didn't sleep much in general, so it wasn't anything out of ordinary. He often just kept his eyes closed if he decided to lay down, finding it easier to get through his thoughts and the world around him if he could escape it by hiding behind the fake sleep.</p>
<p>When the morning sun rose up however, he opened his eyes and was surprised to discover that Wilson was not asleep, either. The young man slept much more often, quite a lot actually, so seeing him already awake was a bit concerning.</p>
<p>Maxwell blinked, wondering if the man had been awake through the whole night. The scientist was staring at his chest, eyes red and puffy and tired expression covering his face. Maxwell pushed his head on Wilson's hair and closed his eyes again. He let his hand run through the other man's unkempt locks, lower on his neck and descend on his back. He felt Wilson move his head a bit, but the other man didn't say anything.</p>
<p>Eventually Maxwell opened his eyes and pulled away to see Wilson's face. The younger man looked at him for a quick moment, until he turned to hide his face on the furcoat they used as a bed. Maxwell didn't say anything, neither did Wilson. The silence wasn't as suffocating as before, but it was much more delicate and fragile, like if they moved even a muscle, something bad would happen.</p>
<p>After a while the older man let a sigh through his nose and got up, sitting to stare at the tent wall. He wasn't sure where to go from here. He was uncomfortable. Wilson was uncomfortable. He didn't want to leave. Wilson didn't want to leave. They didn't know how to be together, yet they were too afraid to be apart. He wondered if they had always been like that, but he just wasn't able to see it before. Maybe he had been too arrogant to even want to see it.</p>
<p>"I should..." the thick voice, heavy from the crying, came from beside him and Wilson sat up as well "I should make us breakfast. I- I will come to get you when it's ready."</p>
<p>The man didn't look at him and just wobbled to the entrance, but froze in place immediately after moving the fabric to get outside. Maxwell furrowed his brows and leaned to see what made the other man stop, freeze in clear fright, but calmed down when it was just his lonely shadow standing near the entrance and keeping a watch like he had told it to.</p>
<p>Wilson just stood still like a statue, and Maxwell felt like he had to say something. He opened his mouth, but a small discomforting feeling choke the words back down, made him think twice, trice, what he should say. What would make Wilson happy, what would be something that he wanted to hear? Even though Wilson was <em>not</em> going to hurt him, he didn't <em>have</em> to think twice, he didn't <em>need</em> to hold back everything he wanted to do and say and think...</p>
<p>Wilson was still frozen in place, quiet and unmoving.</p>
<p>"... It's okay" Maxwell finally said, tensing up a bit "It's just guarding us."</p>
<p>Wilson let his shoulders very slowly lower back down until he turned to glance at Maxwell. The taller man in turn looked away on the ground, still unsure if he should've even made the shadow at all, that maybe he needed to ask a permission to make it, Wilson might get offended if he used Codex behind his back, Wilson wasn't happy with his tricks...</p>
<p>"That's... uh, good thinking." the shorter man said, not sounding offended at all, perhaps a bit hesitant, but mostly just surprised "Just... tell me if you need more nightmare fuel, I'll make sure you'll get it." after that Wilson hurried out without a glance back at him, and left Maxwell to gaze after his back, just thinking things through.</p>
<p>He really did miss Wilson. He just didn't know how to get him back. Wilson would always be Wilson, but he was held down by the regret and hurt and fear, and Maxwell understood, he understood the bad decisions, bad mistakes and very, very good intentions that went horribly wrong. There would never be any take-backs, there would never be any apology or atonement to fix things, there would never be any forgiveness to make the guilt wash away.</p>
<p>But what's done was done, and that was the end of it. Maxwell had done bad things, he had done terrible things. He understood and he didn't blame Wilson, but he couldn't pretend he wasn't hurt and he wasn't violated. He softly touched his chest. It's not like he could forget anymore, anyway. He'd rather get back the good things than dwell on the bad things.</p>
<p>He walked out after a while, his eyes wandering where the crockpot was and where Wilson sat on the ground, his back turned to him, hunched over himself. Maxwell stood still, but Wilson didn't notice him, didn't react or greet him, so the man took in a deep breath and walked next to the other man.</p>
<p>He stopped as he noticed that Wilson had fallen asleep, leaning over his crooked legs, a trail of spit dripping from his open mouth.</p>
<p>Maxwell blinked at the sight. Wilson really hadn't been sleeping at all, had he? Poor thing.</p>
<p>The magician sighed and glanced around the camp. What were they doing yesterday? He was making traps. He should check on them. Wilson had been hunting, or  planning to, at least. Maxwell knitted his brows together and glanced at his shadow, thinking. He could hunt. He was sure it would be appreciated gesture to bring some meat and fur back with him, it might make Wilson happy, make him pleased so he wasn't going to- </p>
<p>Maxwell shook his head furiously. <em>No</em>, just make him happy. Maxwell didn't need to please Wilson in anyway anymore. He took another breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew that Wilson was not himself then, Wilson didn't want to hurt him, Wilson never intended any of that to happen, Wilson was a good man.</p>
<p>It was <em>Them</em>, it was the throne, the shadows.</p>
<p>
  <em>Not Wilson.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Just Them.</em>
</p>
<p>Maxwell took another deep breath and lowered his eyes to the man on the ground.</p>
<p>Not his Wilson. Just <em>Theirs</em>.</p>
<p>He crouched down, slowly and softly brushed his fingers through Wilson's greasy, unkempt hair, and took of his suit jacket to place it over the sleeping man's shoulders. There, Wilson would be fine until he came back.</p>
<p>Maxwell was satisfied with that thought and took Codex and his shadow with him, and headed to the field where around dozen traps were placed around the rabbit holes, half of them fallen over. Maxwell summoned a couple of shadows more, and backed against the tree to steady his head, shaking briefly. It's okay, this was normal, he was just having drawbacks from the shadows. He was not getting weaker.</p>
<p>He had the clones to go after beefalo while he himself started to go through the traps. There were few that were empty, whatever little critter trapped inside escaped before he got to them, but it wasn't that bad when more than enough of the traps were filled with screaming little rabbits.</p>
<p>Maxwell started to feel unnaturally good. He hadn't been alone for a while. The shudder run through him and he bit his lip, shaking the intruding thought away. He hadn't been alone <em>outside</em> for a while. It felt refreshing. He didn't particularly care for the great outdoors (not at all), but after the throne, after the dark prison where Wilson had taken him, he'd take the nature and everything insufferable with it any day.</p>
<p>The man took his time to empty the traps, he took his time watching the shadows successfully lead away and kill one beefalo, and gathering all the loot he needed from it. They even got him a horn! It was suddenly a great shame that Maxwell was alone here, because he felt the increasing need to brag about his small but still important accomplishment to someone.</p>
<p>He could brag about it to Wilson. Wilson would like it.</p>
<p>Maxwell realized how childish it was to get so excited from just thinking how impressed and pleased and happy Wilson would be with him. He didn't need Wilson to praise him like he was some kind of over-grown child seeking for attention.</p>
<p>But he supposed he had to hold on to little things like that if he wanted to make something good out of this. And so what if he felt good about being praised, wouldn't anyone? He wanted Wilson to look up to him the way he used to, and it seemed that he needed to start from the little things. He kicked the last trap in frustration, but paused when it squeacked loudly, making him lose his frustration for a moment.</p>
<p>He turned the trap over and picked up the smallest, weakest, shrimpiest little rabbit he had ever seen. He stared at it for a second. It was hardly even good enough to eat, there was most likely nothing but skin and bone in that runty body. There'd be no use to even take it's fur. Too little for earmuffs, too little for anything.</p>
<p>The rabbit shook and shivered in his grip, small nose waggling ever so slightly, ears pressed tightly against its back and it's small heart beating fast against his hand.</p>
<p>Maxwell turned the shrimpy creature around, watching it's big, white eyes bulging in terror, confused and aware of it's own helplesness, aware that it was in the mercy of this big, two-legged creature that had imprisoned it and was inspecting it with curiosity.</p>
<p>Maxwell didn't like how much of himself he saw in that tiny thing, being all defenseless and just hoping for the quick death, scared and nervous and wishing that whatever came next it wouldn't hurt. He immediately decided that he hated the animal. It was weak and it was pathetic, it was born to be someone else's dinner, born to die anyday and it was helpless to protect itself in this cruel world. He was <em>not</em> like that.</p>
<p>Maxwell pulled the creature close to himself and brushed his thumb through it's light fur.</p>
<p>He was not like that.</p>
<p>He decided to keep the thing. Just because he could. Just because he was able control it's little pathetic life and do as he pleased, because he was bigger and scarier and he could decide to give it mercy or take it away, he could punish it over the smallest mishaps and he could make it quiver and coward until it didn't dare to displease him, until it would obediently do what he demanded because he had the power over it's life, he had the control over it's well-being, he-</p>
<p>The rabbit let out a small squeak and wiggled it's nose in blind panic, it's heart racing faster every second.</p>
<p>Maxwell pressed the critter on his chest and furrowed his brows.</p>
<p>... But then again, he was not like that, either. Not anymore.</p>
<p>Maybe he just kept it and let it live relatively easy life with him, at least easier life than it would have in the burrows with other rabbits. It was weak and skinny and obviously the runt of the litter, it was not going to survive for long. If some predator didn't end it's life, the winter sure would, it was too small to stay warm through the whole season.</p>
<p>Maxwell tucked the rabbit inside his vest, where it soon huddled up in a small, warm ball of fur and fear. The old man offered the lump in his vest a smile.</p>
<p>"I suppose you will be my pet now, right pal?"</p>
<p>The thing inside his clothes just shivered and suddenly the place where it hid got a little bit warmer. Maxwell's smile faded slowly into a displeased scowl.</p>
<p>"...Excuse me, did you just pee on me?"</p>
<p>The rabbit was quiet, because it was a rabbit.</p>
<p>Maxwell decided that he really, <em>really</em> hated this animal. This is why he didn't like animals in general, he told himself, when he just sighed tiredly and started walking back to the camp with the shadow clones stricktly on his heels and the small nose of the rabbit wiggling against his chest.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay but I just really like the idea that Maxwell likes animals.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Out with the old, in with the new</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilson finally breaks under the pressure.</p>
<p>WARNING: Blood and self-harm.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Wilson sniffed, pulling the thick vest tighter and trying to stop his teeth from clattering. He could barely keep his eyes open, the large, glimmering snowflakes laying on his dark lashes, the frostbites nipping his cracked lips. He had stopped feeling his toes hours ago, and his fingertips were white and stiff, pain sparking in them like a cold fire. The storm didn't show any signs of letting up any time soon, and it was getting dark. Wilson was too weak to make a fire, and even if he had any strength left, it would be no use when he could barely even move his fingers.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>So, this was it? He was gonna freeze to death?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He was alone, he was scared. The divining rod next to him screamed at him, and he was so close, he was almost there...</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He couldn't get up. He couldn't fight through this, he had lost all of his strength and will to keep going. Too cold, too dark, too lonely...</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Pal. Please, just leave it."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson tried to smile, but he only managed to let the shaky breath out, the warm air hurting his purple lips. It had been so long since he had seen Maxwell, since he had heard his voice. He wanted to reach his hands to hold the demon, to cry out how he had missed him, but he just sat there, snow slowly building over his frozen body. The only thing he managed was to blink.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Suddenly he was lifted up, the long arms tangling around him like a net, protectively and gently. He leaned his head to the violet suitjacket, and lifted his eyes to see Maxwell's humorless, stolid face, his black eyes disapproving Wilson's sorry state, his thick, luscious lips frowning at him. Wilson closed his eyes, only distantly registering that the storm was blocked away and he sunk into a warm, fuzzy fur around him when Maxwell closed his wintercoat over the small man.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He drifted between the feverish dreams and reality, the low voice dipping into his mind every now and then. He felt the pain getting stronger, stinging, burning... But pain was good, pain meant that he was alive. And he was not in danger, since he was aware of the safety of the arms around him and the warmth of the coat covering his body, and- Oh, there was a campfire now, burning so close to him, almost close enough to touch...</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Careful there, pet. You wouldn't want to both freeze and burn today, would you?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson batted his eyes few times, but compliantly pulled his arm back, away from the inviting flames. He opened his mouth, but only a dry, painful coughs came out.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You are an idiot, you know that? Why can't you give up on this? I don't want to see you suffer like this, Higgsbury. And trust me, if you keep going, there will be more suffering. And you won't find what you wish for in the end." Maxwell pressed his hand - so warm and soft it almost hurt - on Wilson's frostbitten cheek and pressed him closer. Maxwell was lying, not to hurt Wilson, but to protect him. Wilson knew, he was not an idiot despite what Maxwell said, and he had been so close this time...</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I... I Whilll... f-f-fin...dh.. you... Mhaxwhell..." Wilson forced the words out of his throat, they were nothing but a pathetic wheezing sound accompanied with the loud clatter of his teeth. Maxwell only smiled and chuckled without any joy in his voice.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"That's what I'm afraid of."</em>
</p>
<p><br/>---</p>
<p><br/>When Wilson woke up, he was alone. He groaned and massaged his neck - falling asleep on your knees was much more uncomfortable than it looked like, and it, in fact, <em> did</em> look very uncomfortable. He rubbed his eyes and sat still for a while, letting his brain catch on with where and what and when. The crockpot was silent, the food already done.</p>
<p>Wilson got up and almost startled when something fell down from his shoulders, and he turned around in slight alert, but it was just a jacket. Wilson furrowed his brows. It was Maxwell's jacket. Why was it on him? The man swallowed, instantly running things through his head. Had he done something he didn't remember, had he taken the other man's jacket and done something bad to him, had his memory gotten foggy like it was on the throne?</p>
<p>He knew he had been asleep. He remembered how he had thought that he was going to rest his eyes <em>just for a second</em> while the food was cooking, but of course that lie only ended up in a one and only possible way it could. Wilson carefully touched the pot. Cold as a stone. The food had been ready hours ago. How long had he been sleeping?</p>
<p>The scientist raced to the tent in worry and flew the fabric out of his way, but the tent was empty. He run around it, he checked the surrounding area and called for Maxwell.</p>
<p>Maxwell didn't answer.</p>
<p>The shadow clone was gone.</p>
<p>Wilson returned on his place near the crockpot, eyeing it for a while. He had to put the food inside the icebox, make sure Maxwell had something to eat when he came back, had to make sure Maxwell was fine when he returned to the camp from...</p>
<p>From where? Where had he gone? Wilson felt his stomach turn as the scary thought settled in. Maxwell was gone. Gone away from Wilson. <em>Left him.</em></p>
<p>Wilson bit his lip. Of course he had, Wilson had always known he would. But he would come back to at least get his jacket back, right? Maybe he would, maybe he was going to come back and... and...</p>
<p>The short man hugged himself quietly, looking at his feet. And what? It's not like he'd be able to enjoy his time with Maxwell anyway, it's not like they had anything to talk about, anything to do, anything to share. At this point they were just strangers sharing the tent, because Maxwell was too hurt and scared to talk to him, and Wilson was too desperate to have at least some of their old relationship back to leave the other man alone. But that was it, that was all they had.</p>
<p>He let out a long sigh and took a spear in his hand and headed to the forest. He should at least be somewhat useful, it wouldn't be fair to just sit around and do nothing when Maxwell still needed his help with even the basic tasks, not even mentioning the survival. He would be useful. He would make Maxwell feel protected and safe and comfortable in the right way.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Wilson was not sure what he had expected, but he was amazed that Maxwell was waiting for him in the camp when he came back with silk, spiderglands and monster meat. The man was sitting on the ground near the lit campfire, meddling with something on his lap. He rose his gaze when Wilson approached, but didn't say anything until the man had walked to sit against him on the other side of the firepit.</p>
<p>"I brought you beefalo fur and horn."</p>
<p>Wilson rose his head, eyes wide in surprise. Maxwell was looking down, still doing something with the thing he was hiding behind his crooked legs, but he gave Wilson a fast glance under his brows. The younger man offered him a faint smile.</p>
<p>"That's great," he said and saw Maxwell's lips curl up a bit "we're gonna need it when winter comes. But you, uh, you wouldn't need to do that" he continued softly "You don't have to do anything for m-"</p>
<p>It suddenly hit Wilson that Maxwell was probably not doing this for him at all, he might've just wanted to avoid making him angry, or maybe he knew he needed the fur and wanted Wilson to know that he could take care of himself.</p>
<p>"- for our survival. Just ask me, I will do everything you need."</p>
<p>There was silence between them for a while until Maxwell sifted, looking down, pressing the thing on his lap to his torso "...Ah. I'm sorry, then."</p>
<p>Wilson inhaled softly and shook his head "No, I'm sorry. You can do whatever you want. Don't listen to me" he laughed awkwardly and scratched his arm "...Have you eaten anything? There's a foggle bunwhich in the icebox."</p>
<p>Maxwell nodded.</p>
<p>Wilson nodded back.</p>
<p>The silence continued, and slowly the darkness fell over them. Wilson kept tending the fire while Maxwell huddled the furry thing on his lap. Eventually Wilson grew a way too curious and rose his head up, tilting on the side.</p>
<p>"What you got there?"</p>
<p>Maxwell rose his gaze up as well, looking very frightened, shoulders tensing up and grasping the thing in his hands tighter, and  Wilson quickly shook his hands in calming manner "No no, I'm not gonna take it away from you. I'm just curious."</p>
<p>That seemed to make Maxwell relax a bit, and the man let out a quiet sigh and moved his legs out of the way, rising the ball in his hands up a bit to show it to Wilson. The scientist blinked in curiosity and mild amusement.</p>
<p>"Is that a rabbit? Is that all there was in the traps?"</p>
<p>Maxwell shook his head fastly "No, there is morsel in the icebox. This is just... I thought... I wanted to take it here and..."</p>
<p>Wilson crawled a bit closer, smiling gently and eyeing the creature  "... Is that a new friend?" Maxwell didn't answer, but protectively pulled the rabbit back, holding it close to himself and wrapping his hands over it. Wilson huffed out a laugh "Maybe it will do good for you. Does it have a name yet?"</p>
<p>Maxwell furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Wilson "No. Should it?"</p>
<p>"Well, what are you gonna call it if it doesn't have a name? A rabbit? A pet needs a name, Maxwell."</p>
<p>"... I didn't have a name." Maxwell said in quiet, dull voice.</p>
<p>That made Wilson shut his mouth and pause. If the silence had ever been heavy, it had nothing on this one. Wilson felt it pressing his lungs and everything in him grew cold and stiff. He slowly leaned away from Maxwell and sat back, wrapping his arms over his knees and staring into the fire. Maxwell didn't try to stop him, nor did he say anything else. He just kept stroking the fur of the tiny rabbit, lips moving in quiet, inaudible words to his new little friend.</p>
<p>"...I, I think I heard something, I better go check it out" Wilson muttered, made sure Maxwell heard him, and left to catch a minerhat and few more things from the chest and headed out in the darkness. He walked for a good while until he was certain he was out of sight and far enough not to be heard.</p>
<p>Then he fell down on his knees and started crying, started hitting his head with his fists and bit his teeth together in anger and hatred and just the raw desperation. He was a bad person, he was a bad friend and he was a bad lover. He couldn't even have a simple conversation without hurting the other man? That was pathetic, he was hopeless, just hopeless. No wonder Maxwell felt the need to have a rabbit to keep him company and comfort him, Wilson sure as hell wasn't able to.</p>
<p>He angrily rubbed his eyes and stared into the ground, taking off his backpack, starting to rummage around it, until he found his razor. He had meant to go shave some beefalo later this week, but as it had been proven, Maxwell didn't need him to do it, didn't need his help really surviving anymore. He would find other uses to the blade then.</p>
<p>Wilson rolled down his long, fingerless glove, and pressed the razor against his skin. Would it matter if he just disappeared altogether? Maxwell would not miss him. Maxwell would be relieved, satisfied that he had finally gotten away from Wilson. A weep, a sob, a trembling laughter blurted out of his mouth as he stared into the darkness, the shiny edge pressing against him, ready, hungry, waiting. How funny. He had been so afraid of Maxwell once. He had been so helpless, he had hoped that he could just for <em>once</em> make the other man feel as afraid as he was, make him fear and dread before him.</p>
<p>Oh, how much he wished for to take that back now. How much he wished that Maxwell would not flinch and startle at his mere presence, at everything he did.</p>
<p>Wilson bit his teeth, glaring at his skin in burning hatred for himself.</p>
<p>"You are not a good person, you are not good enough." he mumbled, before he slashed the blade through his arm in quick, swift motion. Then it all just broke out and he couldn't stop, couldn't stop cutting, couldn't stop hating and crying and hoping and thinking, thinking, thinking-</p>
<p>He was <em>not</em> a scientist, he was <em>not</em> a gentleman, he was <em>not a friend</em> he was <em>not a lover</em> he was not a <em>king</em> he was not a pawn he was not <em>anything</em> he was not good enough he was nothingnothingnothingnothing</p>
<p>NOTHING</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>...</p>
<p>Wilson dropped the razor from his grip and let his head bob down. His arm was pulsing, throbbing, burning. It was warm, covered in something sticky and thick and slippery. Everything smelled like iron, everything felt distant and foggy. He quietly rose his head up and eyed his arm without any emotion left to feel bad or disgusted. The cuts weren't life threatening. But they hurt, they were like eyes staring at him, judging him with their crimson red pupils. Wilson sniffed and pulled his glove up to hide the damage. He'd treat it later. Maybe. He wasn't sure if he deserved it or not.</p>
<p>But at least Maxwell was not the only one who was hurting anymore, although Wilson's pain was nothing compared to his. Wilson was nothing.</p>
<p>He returned to the camp and muttered that he found nothing important and sat back down on his place and stared at the fire in an empty silence.</p>
<p>Maxwell kept petting his rabbit.</p>
<p>Wilson just stared the fire and felt a secret comfort from the stinging sensation underneath his glove.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Take care of him</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilson decided that enough is enough.</p>
<p>WARNINGS: Self-harm, suicidal thoughts and behavior.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>It didn't matter how many times Wilson died, he would always return. And he would always jump right back into that portal which would lead him to Maxwell, eventually. He wouldn't give up. He never gave up on anything! Least of all on someone he loved.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell haven't appeared to him in weeks, and it was quite worrisome (and lonely), but Wilson suspected that the King was just trying to force him to give up on reaching the throne. Ha! Wilson was not gonna do that, no way no how! There was no other way to go. He could've stayed here, let Maxwell protect him and make the most of his time, but he just couldn't. He couldn't stop thinking that there were more worlds. Levels. Five of them, Maxwell had once told him, and somewhere in there, deep deep inside the deepest and darkest of the places was Maxwell, his real body, his real self, not the handsome three-piece that appeared in the puff of smoke in front of him and could disappear just as fast.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson missed him. He had grown to like the teasing, mocking voice, the bold and nonchalant invasion of his personal space, the smell of cigar and the sudden, unexpected appearances when he least expected to see the King of shadows.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And underneath all of that act of the ruthlessness and cruelty, Wilson missed the man who got flustered when he said something sweet to him, the confused way his hands rose up to air when he got hugged, the way he avoided Wilson's eyes when the younger man started teasing him instead of getting teased himself. After Wilson had managed to break through his defenses, Maxwell had turned out to be a victim of circumstances too, though the older man denied being anything else than at fault of this whole thing. Wilson wasn't buying it, Maxwell was too regretful and morose and, and sad to be the real villain here! Wilson could see it in his smile sometimes, the longing, thin sorrow. He missed Maxwell's smile.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maxwell wasn't a bad person, not really. But he was... he was troubled by something. There were shadows inside his shadows, the darkness that loomed behind his eyes darker than any real darkness would, a sharp teeth holding his throat even tighter than he had ever held his own on Wilson. And for some reason he could not escape, and even though he refused to tell Wilson why he couldn't leave the throne, Wilson was going to find out.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>So the man stood up, dusted the dirt away from his clothes, and pulled the switch.</em>
</p>
<p><br/>---</p>
<p><br/>Wilson had built a cage for Maxwell's rabbit. It still didn't have a name, but Wilson knew better than to pester Maxwell about it. It was not his business. Nothing Maxwell did was his business. But he built the cage and told Maxwell that if he was getting tired of holding his friend or he needed to sleep, he didn't have to fear that the rabbit would run away when he could put it in the cage.</p>
<p>Maxwell had told him he didn't<em> want</em> to put the rabbit in the cage.</p>
<p>Wilson had destroyed the cage. </p>
<p>The rabbit, surprisingly, didn't seem very eager to leave anyway. Perhaps it was too afraid, or didn't know where to go, or it was so young it had attached itself to Maxwell in need of some protection, but nonetheless it never wandered too far away from the magician. It was sweet, Wilson thought, and it made him feel a bit better that Maxwell seemed to get comfort from being around the small thing. But, it also made Wilson realize that Maxwell preferred the company of the rabbit over his. He didn't blame Maxwell, he didn't blame anyone but himself.</p>
<p>Wilson made sure to stay out their way. Sometimes the rabbit hopped carefully to inspect him, sniff his shoes and nibble the fabric of his trousers curiously. One time Wilson rose his hand in an attempt to carefully pet the animal, but Maxwell's frightened 'what are you doing' had stopped him, and Wilson didn't try to touch it after that.  He understood that Maxwell was afraid he was going to take the rabbit away from the man or worse, kill it, but it still hurt that it was what Maxwell apparently expected from him.</p>
<p>It was hard not to start feeling left out, especially at nights. Maxwell would hold the rabbit closely and feed it, pet it's fur and softly and quietly whisper to it something that Wilson couldn't hear. He always sat a respectful distance away and fed the fire while making use of his time, often cooking or making winter clothes, sometimes asking Maxwell a simple question within the lines of 'what do you want to eat tomorrow' or 'is it okay if I go mining in the morning'.</p>
<p>He brought them food, including for the rabbit, and made sure to build them walls and set traps around the camp, after making sure they were far enough so Maxwell's new little friend wouldn't accidentally wander into their teeth. He fixed the tent and made them fur blankets, he built a small farm few feet away from the camp, he took care of their clothes and tools and made sure they always had healing items and garlands close by.</p>
<p>And he was so lonely.</p>
<p>Maxwell would sometimes leave, either when Wilson was away too, or after he assured the man that it was fine and he was not gonna do anything to the rabbit while Maxwell was away. It wasn't good enough, apparently, because Maxwell often left one shadow behind to constantly stood over the little creature and keep Wilson away from it.</p>
<p>And when Maxwell was in their camp, he hardly ever spoke to Wilson, and when he did, Wilson always said something that reminded Maxwell of Wilson's reign as the King, and Wilson felt horrible and always found a reason to leave and hurt himself.</p>
<p>He needed to hurt himself.</p>
<p>He would always regret it afterwards, but it was the only thing that made him think that he had gotten what he deserved, because not only did he hurt Maxwell, but he did it while pretending that Maxwell wouldn't mind it, and now Maxwell was stuck with him as if he needed to be reminded of the things Wilson made him go through just by looking at his face.</p>
<p>It would've been easier to handle if they weren't partners before. If they were just strangers, enemies, just two people without any bond between them, maybe it wouldn't have hurt either of them as much as it did. But Maxwell had fell for him, and he had fell for Maxwell, and Wilson was so happy that someone loved him as he was, that someone accepted him, wanted him close, needed him, touched him gently and heard what he had to say and actually stayed there and listened him as long as he wanted to talk.</p>
<p>Wilson had returned those things with all of his heart, he had wanted Maxwell to feel like he felt, accepted and loved and needed and wanted.</p>
<p>And then he just had to be weak and let <em>Them</em> feed his fear of losing all he had, fear of getting left behind, being alone again, and he had to ruin everything they had for the rest of the eternity.</p>
<p>The day dragged on slowly.</p>
<p>Wilson was alone in the camp, again. He laid on the ground, the dirty, carmine colored razor laying next to him. He was confident enough that Maxwell would not come back yet, because why would he want to be where Wilson was, so he allowed himself to lay on the ground for a while. He just breathed heavily, slowly, thinking how he should get up and wash the razor and his arm before Maxwell came back from where he had left, but he just couldn't get himself to get up and do it. He was so tired. And, besides, Maxwell went away to do something <em>important</em>, he'd take his time before returning. There was no hurry.</p>
<p>It was evident that the older man didn't need Wilson anymore.</p>
<p>Maxwell didn't want to touch him, didn't want to hear his voice, didn't want his hands on his skin, didn't need him or want him or accept him. Didn't love him. Didn't think he was good enough, didn't think he was anything at all. Maxwell only thought him as someone who wanted to hurt him, would say mean things and touch him unkindly and take away things he needed and wanted and selfishly only cared about himself.</p>
<p>And he was <em>right</em>, Wilson really <em>was</em> like that. He was a bad, bad person and he just got what he deserved. He was nothing else than a waste of air and space, everything would be better if he had never been even born. Who in their right mind would even want him to exist at all? Nobody, nobody should want that.</p>
<p>Wilson watched as the rabbit slowly hopped closer to him, and the shadow hovered behind it, keeping an eye on the situation. The man quickly snatched the razor and pulled it inside his vest so the critter wouldn't hurt itself on it. The rabbit froze in place when he moved, but after a while it crawled closer, slowly, sniffing him, big eyes wide open and alert, ready to buck it if he made a hasty motion or acted threateningly.</p>
<p>Wilson just laid there and watched the thing come closer, closer, until it had dared to come inspect his bleeding arm. Wilson winced and pulled his hand against his chest, trying to keep the blood away from the rabbit. The rabbit, however, only came closer and started sniffing Wilson's face, and the man choked out a laughter which made the rabbit once again freeze in place.</p>
<p>What was he even waiting for anymore? He had delivered what he had promised, and now there was no reason for him to be here, no other than, once again, being selfish and just doing what he wanted and he needed. Had his greed no limits? Would he keep finding excuses to stay till the end of days, even after it had become clear that there was no valid reason to be found anymore.</p>
<p>Wilson let the shuddering breath out of his mouth and smiled at the rabbit. </p>
<p>"Would you do me a favor, little guy?"</p>
<p>The rabbit didn't answer him. Wilson smiled drearily and let the animal's whiskers tickle his cheek.</p>
<p>"Take care of Maxwell for me, okay? He needs someone. You seem like a trustworthy guy, I will leave him to your care now."</p>
<p>The man groaned out of discomfort as he lifted himself up and sat there for a while, and glanced at the shadow "And you take care of him. Her. That thing" he furrowed his brows at the shadows while pointing at the rabbit that sat in a place and was very confused and always in slight panic.</p>
<p>Wilson got up and rubbed his arm, smearing the blood all over it absentmindedly. He knew when he wasn't wanted. He wasn't an idiot, he had always noticed when the people looked at him in a certain way, talked to him in a certain way, treated him in a certain way. He knew when he had overstayed his welcome, and it was very clear that Maxwell was avoiding him, afraid of him, disgusted by him, and distrustful of him. And he didn't want Wilson near anymore.</p>
<p>And it was okay, it was <em>right</em>.</p>
<p>Wilson stood still for a short moment, not bothering to put his glove back on or clean his arm.</p>
<p>He considered leaving a note. Something that wouldn't sound like he blamed Maxwell for any of this, something to give him the idea that he was free to do whatever he wanted now and Wilson wouldn't be bothering him anymore. But then again, why would Maxwell want to read it? Wilson wouldn't. He wouldn't want anything to do with someone who had abused him the way he had abused Maxwell. If someone had raped him, ripped of his fingernails, carved their name on his skin, almost crushed him to death and locked him away for months, and done it all the while claiming that they were doing it out of love, he wouldn't want anything to do with that person ever again. It didn't matter if he wasn't really himself back then, it didn't matter if <em>They</em> were controlling him like a puppet, he still did all of that.</p>
<p>There was no excuse.</p>
<p>Wilson though about taking the torch, taking the minerhat, but in the end it sounded just stupid waste of supplies and items if he was going to die anyway.</p>
<p>He deserved to die. He only needed his razor.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Maxwell was just tired.</p>
<p>He was too tired to really care about things lately.</p>
<p>Most of the time he just did things when they came to his mind in the order they came, and although it sometimes made it feel like he had lost his train of thought, he didn't care about that either, as long as he could get things done and go back to camp and pet his rabbit and sleep next to Wilson.</p>
<p>Maxwell didn't know if it was a good or a bad thing, but he missed Wilson's touch. It was comforting to know that he wasn't alone, that Wilson felt like his Wilson again, and he missed that Wilson would try to hold his hand or pat his shoulder, that he would snuggle close to him in his sleep and check him for injuries very carefully.</p>
<p>Wilson didn't seem to sleep much lately, which wasn't too hard to notice since neither did Maxwell. He was tired but not sleepy, and it was rather easy to see how Wilson had started to wander around when he was supposed to go to sleep and crawl to bed when it was almost morning. Maxwell didn't bring it up. Who was he to judge someone's sleeping habits, when he would lay awake and stare at the ceiling for most of the nights?</p>
<p>The scientist had given him lot of space lately, too. Maxwell didn't know if he liked that. He felt calmer when Wilson wasn't talking to him or touching him (which was weird because he truly <em>did</em> miss his touch), and he felt like it was easier to breathe and just exist when the other man let him be, easier to not have to think about ten times what he was about to say and then spend five minutes anxiously waiting for the reaction.</p>
<p>But on the other hand, it bothered him. Wilson seemed to withdraw more and more with every conversation and interaction they had, and even though Maxwell was just too tired to really do anything about it, it was constantly in his thoughts, always hovering in the back of his mind.</p>
<p>He cared about Wilson, but he was just so tired. It was easier to not think about things too much, and that meant that he mostly ignored everything even when his alarm bells where ringing, so he could just go back to easy feeling of not caring about anything, and simply just concentrate on being alive.</p>
<p>Maxwell was heading back to the camp with his shadow clone after practically cutting down the entire forest nearby, and he couldn't be bothered to remember if he had told Wilson were he was headed in the morning. It wasn't easy to remember what he had actually told the other man and what he didn't, when he had to think about what he was going to say for so long that sometimes the things he was <em>sure</em> he had said out loud never left his head at all, and it caused some confused moments between the two of them from time to time.</p>
<p>The tall man didn't even get to the camp when he instinctively stopped dead on his tracks, when he saw a familiar figure walking towards him. Wilson was not walking quite right at his direction, but very close. Maxwell furrowed his brows. It looked like as if Wilson had something red covering his other arm, and it didn't look like he was paying attention to where he was going, sluggishly dragging his feet forward to somewhere. He didn't look like he had anything with him either, not even one tool or a backpack.</p>
<p>Maxwell watched him go, and then turned to head back to the camp.</p>
<p>Then he turned around and walked after Wilson.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Excuses</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Maxwell and Wilson have a little talk.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The idyllic landscape was filled with the sound of summer. Berries, carrots and flowers scattered all around the place, a couple of butterflies fluttered across Wilson's vision just inches away from his face.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The place was not what he had expected. It was nice, not at all like the previous worlds there had been in his path. It was almost like a paradise compared to the rest of the Constant, almost too good to be true, so tranquil and calm and flourishing and safe.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>...It was a trap.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson knew it had to be, he was not a god damn idiot. It just had to be something that Maxwell made for him so he wouldn't continue this journey any longer. It was just too damn nice to be anything else than a ploy, a gilded cage just for him, a little treat for his tired body. It was Maxwell's way of saying, 'Please stay here, don't go any further, you won't have anything this nice ever again'.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wilson smiled from the side of his mouth, shaking his head slightly. Maxwell could not turn his head around, he could not stop Wilson from trying to reach him and save him from whatever terrible place he was held in. Maybe Wilson could stay here for a moment, maybe a few days even, but not for long. He might take a break and catch his breath, build up the strength to keep going, but he had already decided that he was going to find Maxwell, and this little present was just a rest stop for him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Bribe all you want, Max. I'm not going to give up on you" he said to the thin air, knowing very well that even when the man wasn't here with him, he could still hear him clear as a day. Wilson knew that Maxwell was always keeping an eye on him, watching over him when he traveled through this horrid world to find him. And Wilson let him know loud and clear that his pretty and beautifully wrapped gift was rejected.</em>
</p>
<p><br/>---</p>
<p><br/>It was time to leave.</p>
<p>He should've left sooner. He should've stopped being selfish and let Maxwell be.</p>
<p>He should've stopped finding excuses to stay.</p>
<p>There was nothing but excuses. Excuses as far as the eye could see. Excuses in everything he did, everything he said. He was vomiting out excuses just for that small, slight comforting lie that one of them was true enough to give him a reason to stay.</p>
<p>He should've left sooner. He should've given up ages ago, given up on himself just like everyone else had done, just like he deserved. He had no reason to stay, no reason to torment Maxwell by being around him when he wasn't wanted or welcomed there anymore. He could stay and give Maxwell everything he possibly could, every single last thing until he had nothing left to give, but even if his intentions would've been good, they weren't wanted. Maxwell wanted nothing from him and could survive without him now, so the best thing he could give the man was the peace and comfort of his absence.</p>
<p>He really should've left sooner.</p>
<p>"Wilson?"</p>
<p>The young man stopped, tensing up in sudden panic, feeling his blood run cold. He wanted to turn around, but he was too afraid and ashamed to. He heard the footsteps and prayed that they were heading away from him, away, please go away, please leave him be.</p>
<p>There was a soft, very careful brush of fingers on his arm "...What's this?"</p>
<p>Wilson automatically pulled his bloody arm away and grasped it tight. He had forgotten, he didn't think anyone would be there to see it, nobody was <em>supposed</em> to be there to see it. He just shook his head in response. It was nothing. The hand rose up to rub slowly and apprehensively his shoulder. He didn't want to turn around, he just lowered his head and stared at his feet.</p>
<p>He knew it was Maxwell, but he hoped that if he didn't turn around then somehow it wouldn't be real. Maybe Maxwell would disappear. Maybe he would just go away and Wilson could pretend that he wasn't standing there, the razor hidden inside his vest and bare, cut forearm huddled against his chest in attempt to hide it away even if he had already got caught red-handed. Heh, red-handed, literally. <em>God, why was he like this, there was something wrong with his head.</em></p>
<p>But Maxwell didn't disappear, nor did he go away. He didn't move, he didn't say anything, his hand rested on Wilson's shoulder in silence. Wilson swallowed and bit his lip. Was he supposed to say something? Of course he was, he was the one acting suspiciously and having a cut, bleeding arm and heading to god knows where. But he didn't want to say anything, he didn't want to spit out more excuses. So he didn't.</p>
<p>Maxwell didn't want to say anything either. He didn't know what to say. He was worried, and he was afraid, but he didn't know if he was allowed to point out that Wilson looked pretty bad right know and he should probably tend to his arm and get some sleep. Wilson was eerily quiet, still, frozen in what looked like panic. Maxwell knew what panic looked like, he'd had his fair share of situations full of panic and fear, even before he found Codex. Panic had a certain silent loudness in it, it wasn't hard to see once you learned what it looked like.</p>
<p>Maxwell hesitantly took a step closer and placed his other hand on the shorter man's shoulder as well. He didn't know how to start telling Wilson that he was worried and ask him if he could take a look on his injuries and just... just sleep together again, it had been a while since they slept side by side without one of them acting up in silent discomfort. He gently pulled Wilson's shoulder, trying to turn him around, and after giving a couple of protesting tugs, the man gave in and turned around, hanging his head in obvious attempt to avoid the eye contact. Maxwell only blinked. He was just so god damn tired.</p>
<p>"... Are you.. going to leave?"</p>
<p>Wilson pulled his shoulder up, hanging his head only lower. Maxwell furrowed his brows.</p>
<p>"Why?"</p>
<p>Wilson didn't answer him. The short man started nervously scratching his arm.</p>
<p>"Don't  you... Don't you want to be with me anymore?"</p>
<p>Wilson opened his mouth and rose his head, not enough to come into the view behind his messy hair, but it was at least an actual reaction. Maxwell paused for a second. His eyes wandered to the cuts that were starting to dry, the blood gotten sticky and brown on the skin. He wasn't really surprised, he had always known that Wilson took the failing and mistakes very hard, and this kind of regret must've been killing him inside. But it still made his stomach turn to see the wounds, to think how they came to be there, to think that he hadn't paid any attention, not enough to notice, not enough to care.</p>
<p>It was sometimes so hard to care about anything. But he cared about Wilson.</p>
<p>"...Let me take care of this" the magician said softly, grasping Wilson's wrist on his hand, and the other man winced, a displeased whine escaping his mouth. But he didn't try to pry his hand away. Maxwell supposed it was a good thing, he had been afraid that Wilson would try to run away - he had already been running away, if Maxwell didn't happen to just run into him he might have never came back. The thought made Maxwell shiver. No matter how complicated this thing between them had become, he still didn't wish to lose Wilson. He was in too deep, he needed Wilson around.</p>
<p>Wilson stood silently in place, staring at the ground. He was cornered. He couldn't just leave now that Maxwell wanted him to go back because he thought that Wilson didn't want him, he thought that Wilson was leaving because <em>he</em> didn't want to be with <em>Maxwell</em>. He wanted, that was the whole point, he had found so many excuses to stay and be with him, he wanted nothing more in this world than to be with Maxwell, and that had started this whole fiasco. That was the whole reason why Maxwell was suffering. That was the whole reason why Wilson needed to leave, needed to off himself because he was making things so much worse like this.</p>
<p>He could still sometimes hear <em>Them</em>, or his own thoughts, he was not sure which one it was. <em>They</em> told him that he would be better off dead if he couldn't even handle a small aftermath like this. That if this was how pitiful he'd get after getting a bit of backlash, then he was never fit to be a scientist or a survivor, even less a King.</p>
<p>It might have been real or just his imagination, it might have been his own thoughts running in circles and echos crashing into each other and creating so many messy thoughts in his head, more excuses, he had to leave before he did something worse than he already had.</p>
<p>But he couldn't, because before he even noticed what was happening he was already being guided back to the camp, back to the crime scene, back to the place where he was an outsider and where he wasn't wanted, together with Maxwell who he couldn't touch anymore, couldn't speak to, couldn't belong to.</p>
<p>He was guided back, he was sat down. He was spoken to, but he didn't hear it, his own thoughts too thick and loud, too angry at himself. His hand was washed clean, sewn together, patched over, and his cheek was gently touched. The glove he had forgotten in the camp was put back over his arm and there were words again, before his other glove was pulled down, and his clean, healthy hand was there in his sight for a while before the glove was put back on and his hands weren't touched anymore. Words again, and this time Wilson thrust his eyes deeply shut and shook his head, cleared the thoughts and the noise away so he could be present, and rose his head to look at his companion.</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>Maxwell frowned slightly.</p>
<p>"I... I asked you if you want to talk about it."</p>
<p>Wilson stared at him, eyes wide and face as pale as a ghost, lips apart, hands hanging uselessly on his sides. Why would he want to talk about it, wasn't it obvious? Why would Maxwell want to <em>hear</em> about it, why would he want to take care of his wounds, why would he want him to stay here?</p>
<p>He wanted to say something so badly. Say something and tell how sorry he was, how much he wished he could take everything back, how much he hated himself and how terrible it was to be here and know and see and hear all the things he had done wrong, the terrible things he had done, and his words were excuses excuses <em>excuses</em>, he wanted to tell Maxwell but he didn't want to let out the pathetic word vomit that would be nothing but selfishness and self-pity, apologies that would fix nothing and tears that would taste like blame and regret.</p>
<p>He tried to force something useful out of his mouth, but it got stuck, excuses choking down everything else, and oh how much he just wanted to be forgiven, how much he wanted to be loved again and held and kissed and he wished that he could have back the things before he had sat on the throne and freed Maxwell and seen him crumble to dust, and he had never been so happy to find out he was still alive and then he had destroyed everything they had.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry" he squeaked out, face twisting into a sad frown as the tears started to form in his eyes. He didn't want any of this and he didn't want pity, but he could not deny how much he just wanted to be forgiven.</p>
<p>He didn't deserve to be forgiven, he didn't deserve to have Maxwell. The older man sighed and wrapped his arms around Wilson, which made him freeze. Maxwell had not shown this kind of affection to him in ages. Small, careful and scared touches maybe, but not anything like this. Not a hug. Wilson looked around as if he could somehow find an answer to this absurd gesture from somewhere, but the world offered him no help, and Maxwell just hugged him, kept him close, and Wilson could not understand why.</p>
<p>"...I'm sorry" he breathed out with a wet, thick voice when he tried really hard to swallow back the need to cry and rose his hands up only to realize that he wasn't brave enough to place them on the other man's back, and left them hovering in the air. He couldn't stop himself, the tears fell down, the lip started trembling, the sobs bubbled out "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't- I don't know how I would ever- I'm so sorry that I hurt you, I can't tell you how bad I feel, I- y-you deserve better..."</p>
<p>Excuses. More excuses. He was pathetic.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry. I- I don't know what else to say. There is nothing else I can say... I'm sorry." Wilson hung his head, but it accidentally just leaned against Maxwell's shoulder, so he quickly pulled it back up again and just sat there for a while, waiting for the other man to say something. Waiting for him to finally tell him that it didn't matter if he was sorry because it wouldn't undo the damage, and there was nothing he could say or do to fix things between them. He sat there and waited for the inevitable, so he could leave and cut his life here short with the peace of mind knowing that Maxwell was doing better without him around.</p>
<p>"I know... I know you are." the other man muttered into his hair and tightened his arms around the shorter man. Wilson's own arms started to get tired, and he pulled them closer to hold the man back, decided against it, and let them fall down and hang loosely on his sides. Maxwell's words didn't tell him anything else than that he knew Wilson had done wrong and hurt him and been terrible to him, and it left him nothing but even more desperate to just make things better somehow even though he knew that it wasn't possible.</p>
<p>There was a long silence again.</p>
<p>Maxwell wasn't sure how to handle this, he wasn't comfortable with this. He was just tired. So, so tired, and he didn't know what to do. Everything was so messed up, everything felt like some weird sick fever dream that he couldn't escape. He just squeezed Wilson tighter, pushing his face in the shorter man's hair.</p>
<p>He missed Wilson.</p>
<p>Wilson had been so many things, there had been so much in him. Then it had twisted and crooked into some abomination that wasn't really him anymore, something that was just wearing his face and mimicking his voice. And now there was nothing. Now he was just a hollow shell running out of anything else than regret and quilt and blame. Maxwell wished he could turn back time and get his Wilson back.</p>
<p>Maybe it would've been better if he just never let the man get involved with him at all. He thought that Wilson could handle things, but perhaps he had been wrong. The younger man obviously wasn't prepared for how difficult and hard and rocky the relationship with him could be. If only Maxwell had been wise enough to stay away, Wilson would've never gotten it in his head to 'save him' from the throne. Wilson would've never grown so obsessed with him, never needed him so much and never wanted him for himself. The magician sighed and brushed his fingers through the black mess of his hair. He had only made Wilson easier for <em>Them</em> to play with.</p>
<p>Wilson sniffed and made a small noise that sounded a little bit like a laughter, which in turn made Maxwell flinch and lean away, cautiously watching what it was that the other man had in mind. Wilson shook his head.</p>
<p>"So... What do you want to do now?"</p>
<p>Maxwell blinked in confusion. Wilson rose his gaze up and looked him dead in the eye "We can't just keep doing this. We are not fine. Just... Just tell me. Do you want me to go or stay? Or, or do you want to just, forget about me and live here and just ignore me, or do you want me to do something for you, or..." Wilson started grabbing his hair absentmindedly, ripping it in very painful-looking way "I would just let you do what you want, you know? You can do whatever you want, you don't have to be around me anymore, I'm not going to go after you if you want to leave me and I'm not going to be angry if you want me to stay away from you and your stuff, I'm not going to hurt you if you get angry at me or say something that you think that I wouldn't like..."</p>
<p>Maxwell had to forcefully, but as gently as he was able to, pry Wilson's hands out of his hair because it started to look like he might rip his scalp right off of his skull if he kept pulling his hair like that, and Wilson either didn't care or notice and just kept going "You could do anything you want, I can just sit here quietly and make sure we always have food and healing salve and winter- and summer clothes, or, or, or you can tell me what you want and you don't have to do anything at all ever again and I will do what you ask of me... Or I can leave and make sure you never ever have to see me or hear of me again..."</p>
<p>Maxwell let go of his other hand and cupped his cheek, which made Wilson fall silent and sit there hanging his mouth open for a while.</p>
<p>But only for  a while.</p>
<p>"... You can hurt me. I will let you, I wouldn't hold it against you even if I cry or scream or say no, I wouldn't be angry at you. If it would make you feel better-"</p>
<p>Maxwell placed both of his hands on the younger man's cheeks and shook his head, looking him in the eyes with a solemn face "I have already hurt you. A lot. Don't you remember?"</p>
<p>Wilson looked as if Maxwell would've just slapped him in the face, drawing his brows together and staring at him in disbelief "... Y-yes, but you never- You let <em>other things</em> hurt me, you never laid a finger on me yourself! Maybe you twisted my arm or run me straight into the danger from time to time, but you never hurt me the same way I hurt you!" Wilson's hands found their way on Maxwell's wrists, and the man's grip was hard and desperate "And you stopped! You stopped because you started loving me, I only did <em>worse</em> things because I loved you, that isn't the same thing at all!"</p>
<p>"Was it really you? Because I don't think it was, I know what the throne can do to you, and you never would have-"</p>
<p>"Of course it was me! I was afraid! I saw you dying in front of me, I thought I lost you forever, and when I didn't I just thought how much I loved you and how I never wanted to let go of you again! I needed you and I needed you to need me and want me and I wanted to be the only one in your life because you were the only one in mine, and none of that is nothing else than excuses because in the end I didn't think about your feelings at all, I didn't think it mattered as long as I could be close to you! It was all there before I got trapped on the throne, it was all real before <em>They</em> started making me think it all the time, it was always me, all of it!"</p>
<p>Wilson's eyes were barely nothing but tears when he finally broke down and wrapped his arms around himself and hunched over his legs, pushing his forehead on the ground just crying like a child, hiccups and  shaky inhales mixed in between the raw, unrestrained cries.</p>
<p>Maxwell sat silently watching him. He wasn't sure what to say. He knew it wasn't what Wilson would've done, not him, not His Wilson. He knew it wasn't a complete lie what Wilson just said, he knew how deeply insecure Wilson was, how he deep down craved to be needed and wanted, how much Maxwell's attention meant to him, but Wilson wouldn't have done anything like that if They wouldn't have poisoned his mind with their false promises and empty compliments, reassurance and insistence molding him like a clay. Maxwell knew, he had been the same. He just hadn't been able to get what he had craved for, so he had never done anything else than entertained <em>Them</em> and tried to keep himself sane, pulling people to this hell with him and trying to get used to being imprisoned for the eternity.</p>
<p>Wilson wasn't to blame. Not any more or less than Maxwell was. He placed his hand on Wilson's hair, stroking him quietly while the man wailed against the ground. He felt the small poke on his leg and turned to see that the rabbit had come to sit next to them, tiny nose wiggling in fear of the noise the crying human made. Maxwell sighed and pet it's head.</p>
<p>"Not now. I have someone else I need to take care of at the moment."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Eye for an eye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wilson is willing to do anything to be forgiven. Anything.</p><p>WARNINGS: Violence on eyes</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The nightmares wouldn't leave him, wouldn't go away. They wouldn't disappear no matter how he fought them, how many times he told himself that they were not real. They were not real, not real...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was this darkness, this never-ending night, this cursed, damned, horrible darkness! It messed with his head. He knew it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson rocked himself near the campfire where he attempted to cook a mushroom, feeling so, so paranoid and scared and unstable, so unstable...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was going crazy. This was it. He was losing his mind.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>An unstable chuckle slithered from his mouth when he kept swaying, holding his knees and eyeing the dark around himself. Maxwell was not here, he was not here, Wilson was alone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He thought he saw Maxwell. But it wasn't him, it couldn't be him. It was terrifying, large... It had fangs like a wolf and it was monstrous, both in posture and appearance. It was not his Maxwell, it was only a nightmare.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson groaned and rubbed his trembling hand over his face.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was losing it. He really was.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The divining rod kept making annoying noise near him. He wanted to smash it, but he couldn't. He knew he was close. So close.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was so close to Maxwell. He needed to keep himself together, for him, for his love, for his Maxwell. For his own Maxwell. For him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Just a little bit longer, then it was all going to be okay.</em>
</p><p><br/>---</p><p><br/>Maxwell pushed his face on Wilson's neck as his hand laid over the small man's chest, while the scientist just kept fiddling his fingers awkwardly and nervously, but still pressed his back closer to the tall man behind him. Maxwell gave him a quick, swift, careful kiss on his neck, and Wilson made a small noise, not unlike the sobs he had been making, which were thankfully starting to quiet down. The younger man hadn't said anything since Maxwell took him in the tent and sat him down. He had meant to just put the other man  to sleep, to make him rest a bit to clear his head, but Wilson wouldn't lay down, only just insisting that he'd do whatever Maxwell wanted if it only could make him forgive him.</p><p>It was difficult to decide if Maxwell would, if he already had, or if he was just too tired to care either way. But Wilson wanted his forgiveness so so badly, that the man couldn't find it in himself to confess that he didn't know if it was even possible, if he even knew how to forgive, so he hadn't said a thing.</p><p>Maxwell just sat behind the younger man and kept running his fingers on Wilson's chest fondly but cautiously, thinking if he should do something or not. He wanted Wilson close, he thought he wanted it, but he felt nervous. Not only because he really didn't feel entirely comfortable about the idea of getting intimate with Wilson again yet, but also because he was almost sure that Wilson wasn't really thinking straight right now. After all, the younger man <em>had</em> told him that he would let Maxwell hurt him, almost sounded like he <em>wanted</em> Maxwell to hurt him, and it made the older man hesitant to act in fear of actually doing something Wilson wouldn't like, but would still allow in some desperate try to right his wrongdoings and make Maxwell feel better.</p><p>He wondered if the scientist was okay. Well, someone with the arm full of cuts definitely wasn't okay, but he had begun to seriously worry how long gone the man really was. Part of him feared that Wilson wasn't going to change for the better, that he had just changed from one bad thing to another.</p><p>Maxwell just rubbed his crooked nose on the other man's neck and closed his eyes. He just wanted his own Wilson back.</p><p>But people changed, some fast and some slowly over time, but it was inevitable. Maxwell knew, he knew better than anyone, apart from perhaps Charlie. People changed. There was no going back to past, there was no way to stop things from happening, stop meeting people, stop the time turning, and it all just shaped and molded you whether you liked it or not. Every little blink of an eye you were already someone different, and there was nothing that could be done about it.</p><p>Somehow it felt needlessly unfair that Wilson had changed, because the way he had changed was no doubt Maxwell's fault. Of course the younger man would've changed anyway, growing older and all, but not here, not like this, not because of Maxwell and <em>Them</em> and the Constant.</p><p>His Wilson was gone. His Wilson had been gone for a while now, and now all he had was this broken man who felt strange to touch and difficult to see, whose voice sounded dull and thick most of the time, who was still his Wilson, but not the same Wilson, and it was so strange and weird to think about it. Maxwell just pulled Wilson closer and the man made a strange sound, confused small inhale.</p><p>It wouldn't be fair to let Wilson just wallow in his own misery, which was undoubtedly caused by Maxwell's misery, which was caused by Wilson's insecurity, which was caused by <em>Them</em>, and none of this would've happened in the first place if the magician would've just stayed away from the other man like a sane person. There were a lot of things that were Wilson fault, a whole lot more of things that were Maxwell's fault, and a lot of shared blame and mistakes, but in the end there was nothing that could be done about any of it anymore.</p><p>"...I just want things to go back to the way they were." he muttered, exhausted sigh running from his lips, and the scientist in his arms let out one sigh of his own.</p><p>"I'm sorry. Maybe I could... Maybe I could pretend that-"</p><p>"No." Maxwell tightened his arms around the smaller man "I don't want to pretend."</p><p>"...Oh..." Wilson's voice was as sorry as ever, as if he had disappointed Maxwell greatly. The older man just sighed, again, and slowly let go of Wilson. He wanted to fix things, but he didn't know how, and he knew they couldn't be fixed entirely, if at all. He was too tired to try to save something when he didn't even know if he was capable of doing so. But he hated doing nothing about the fact that they were both more or less lost and miserable whether they were together or not, and he hated that he had to feel so helpless and incapable of doing anything to better things.</p><p>He already felt miserable before what Wilson did, before <em>Them</em>, before the Constant. He had gotten used to it, it wasn't as big deal to him as it probably should've been. Bad things tended to happen to idiots who borrowed a lot of money they couldn't pay back and left the rent unpaid and didn't have balls to just go back home and admit their defeat. Bad things had already happened nonetheless, and he had wasted all his tears ages ago, he was tired of crying over the things he couldn't change.</p><p>In a way he was almost grateful that he had already sunk into the depths of depression and anger and desperation and all the other things that just happened when you fucked up in life as much as he had. It made the pain a bit easier to handle, easier to think that at least it was over, at least it wasn't as bad as it could've been, at least he was still breathing. Although, it was very much debatable if it was a good thing or not.</p><p>The fact that it had been Wilson who hurt him was admittedly the most painful part about all of this. Maxwell blinked, feeling the apathetic smile curl on his lips. Perhaps that's how Charlie felt about things too, that it hurt a little bit more because it was caused by someone she trusted and cared for. Ah, how ironic. Maxwell really had a talent of messing things up. Seemed to be the only natural talent he had in life.</p><p>"I love you." It wasn't much, but it was the only thing he was sure about anymore. Wilson just whimpered and rose his shoulder up, hanging his head.</p><p>"I'm sorry." It seemed to be the only thing Wilson was sure about anymore. Maxwell only furrowed his brows.</p><p>"...Can you... can you turn around?" He hated how unsure his voice was. But he would rather look Wilson's face than the back of his head... Not just because he really missed just being able to look at the other man, but because it felt more comforting to see that he was himself again, that he wasn't some shadow-filled nightmare being whose smile was wrong and eyes were empty of any empathy.</p><p>The scientist didn't waste any time before turning around to face him, hands curled into fists resting on his lap, eyes staring down. Maxwell hesitantly rose up his hand and cupped Wilson's cheek, and the younger man pressed his eyes close, frowning slightly - maybe he was expecting for Maxwell to finally hurt him. Maxwell had to stop and think about it for a second as well.</p><p>Did he want to hurt Wilson? He was angry, of course he was, but not so much at Wilson as he was angry just in general, angry that the universe never seemed to get tired of kicking him when he was down, angry that things never went his way. And maybe he was a bit angry that Wilson couldn't control his feelings and ended up hurting him because of it, even if the taller man didn't blame him for it, it didn't take the feeling of betrayal away.</p><p>And who knows... maybe it <em>could</em> make him feel better, to hurt Wilson. Maxwell closed his eyes and felt his fingers, still bandaged under his gloves, ruined, felt the slowly healing scars adoring his chest with the name he honestly doubted he could ever think of the same way again. He felt his insides burn from the time Wilson decided that forcing himself on Maxwell was better than respecting his wishes. He felt his neck pulse from the time he would've rather died than been with Wilson.</p><p>He opened his eyes again.</p><p>He could've rather died than been with Wilson. Maybe it meant that he could've rather let Wilson die than be with him, too. Perhaps it was better if one of them was gone.</p><p>Maxwell quickly beat that thought back down where it had came from. Maybe it would be better, but he didn't want that. He didn't <em>want</em> Wilson to die, he needed Wilson, he didn't want to be without him. And as for himself, he had already abandoned the idea of killing himself. Either he was just weak, or he just didn't know when to stop fighting the inevitable and give up. Perhaps both.</p><p>But it still hurt, he couldn't deny how much it did. In a way, Wilson had been right about one thing - Maxwell might have let the hounds tear him apart, he might have summoned a pack of spiders in the middle of his camp, he might have distracted him so he had no time to prepare for the approaching giant, but he never did the things like Wilson did to him.</p><p>Maybe he <em>did</em> want to hurt Wilson.</p><p>"What... what would you do to make things up to me?" It was mostly asked just to test it, just to make sure he wasn't crossing the line, just to have a better picture of how sorry Wilson really was. He needed to know, needed to know if Wilson was really sorry enough, and he need to understand how deeply he regretted what he had done. The younger man blinked at him, mouth opening and closing for a while, until he swallowed, staring at Maxwell the whole time. There was a lot of desperation, but something else, too - the familiar little glimmer of determination, of the stubborn mind that was buried under all of that mess.</p><p>"Anything at all."</p><p>"Anything?"</p><p>Nod.</p><p>Maxwell didn't even think when he said it. He wasn't going to say it, but it was the first thing that flashed through his brain when he looked at Wilson's wide, teary and desperate eyes, staring at him in silent plea for something, anything to give him a way to prove how much he wanted to do anything to be forgiven.</p><p>"Gouge out your eye."</p><p>The sentence formed on his tongue faster than Maxwell even heard himself speak, and even as he was a bit unnerved how easily that command rolled on his tongue, without even thinking what he was going to say, he decided that sure, why <em>shouldn't</em> he hurt Wilson. Wilson wanted it, after all. Wilson <em>deserved</em> it. They both deserved to get hurt, but right now Maxwell was just grasping his claws onto that one sudden thought to finally gain some power back. </p><p>The young man stared at him, face frozen in confused, dumbfounded look, before his eyes widened and all the color drained from his face. He just kept staring at Maxwell with slight disbelief, but Maxwell stared back at him, face cold and hard and concentrating really hard to not turn his gaze away.</p><p>It felt kinda good to get even a little bit of control back, even if it also felt wrong - he had played with the other survivors for much longer than he ever had with Wilson. He had stopped after he realized he wanted something else from him than just the entertainment of watching him struggle, but after everything that had happened, he had to admit that he had missed having control over at least something. </p><p>If Wilson could do it, maybe Maxwell was willing to believe that he really was sorry and he would really do anything to prove he regretted everything. A small voice inside his head hissed at him, that this was not making anything better at all, he was only further hurting the already fragile relationship they had left, but the former King shook the thought away and waited.</p><p>Wilson's mouth moved in silence, a panic choking down his voice, until he eventually offered Maxwell an distraught and panicky smile, and without offering him an explanation he reached inside his vest, pulling out the dirty, bloody razor.</p><p>Worry and fear instantly rushed through Maxwell, and his anger was momentarily buried under the concern that the thing had been hidden inside Wilson's clothes, and <em>why</em> it had been hidden there, but he chose to not think about it now, despite the small voice still in his head telling him that he was concentrating on the wrong thing.</p><p>"R-right... Of course.... Sure, yeah, I-I..." Wilson licked his lips nervously and flipped the rugged, dirty blade of the razor open, and stared at it for a short while with wide, empty eyes.</p><p>"Y-yeah, I, I can do this... Not a big deal, I can do this, I... can do this..." slowly the shorter man pointed the razor towards his face, shaking slightly. Maxwell furrowed his brows, only allowing himself to think that Wilson sure was taking his time. But the razor moved closer to his face, And Wilson only stopped to rise his other hand to pull his eyelids open, move them out of the way. He gave Maxwell a quick glance, smiling in a way that was anything else than glad or happy, and started to take deep, trembling breaths.</p><p>"It's... I-it's okay, I... I will do this for you, I will. It's fine, I will, I-" The man wasn't sounding like he was talking to Maxwell at all, staring at the blade that was inching closer to his eye, closer and closer, shaking in his tight grip. Wilson huffed out air, trying to steady himself, and bit his teeth together so tight they grit against each other. Maxwell almost held his breath.</p><p>Then the regret hit in, the realization that <em>he didn't really want Wilson to do it what was he thinking</em>, and Maxwell opened his mouth to let out the fast "Don't" the same time as Wilson hissed in a fast breath and pushed his hand forward.</p><p>The pain hit in like a strike of lightning and half of Wilson's vision burst full of red and black and then nothing, nothing at all. The eye socket spit out blood when the man yelled, screamed through his pain, and he felt that there was pair of hand on his fingers, trying to pry them away, but he couldn't let them, he wasn't done yet, and it hurt and he wanted it to stop but he promised, he said anything, he wasn't done yet-</p><p>"Wilson <em>stop!</em>"</p><p>Wilson didn't. Half of his vision wasn't there anymore and the other side was blurry and wet and it itched and he just hurt so much, he hurt and he was scared but he had to, he had to do this, he had to, it was the only way.</p><p>The hands finally yanked the razor away, and something else was pulled out with it, leaving even more pain behind. Wilson realized that his eyes were open, but he couldn't see a thing, only clawing his face to scratch out the pain that was burning him like a torch pushed inside his head and suddenly there was something soft, something cool that was pressed against his face and he was pushed down on his back, still screaming, still crying, still in so much pain and he just couldn't take this he wanted to die-</p><p>Something was pulled around him, something else that was soft, and he distantly could feel something holding him and hushing him and trying to force him to calm down.</p><p>It took a while stop screaming his lungs out and calm down.</p><p>It took almost the whole night.</p><p>Eventually the foggy grayish color of the early morning started to peek on the horizon. Wilson was still in pain, but now the pain wasn't burning anymore, instead being dulled down and numb, pulsing feeling that laid over the other side of his face, veiling it behind the darkness that laid over his eye. Maxwell was holding him, pressing him inside the fur blanket, huddled inside tight and safe and unable to move.</p><p>Wilson blinked and managed to rose up his gaze to stare at the older man.</p><p>It had been hours, but he only now got his voice back, only now was able to do something else than scream.</p><p>"...I... I don't understand... I thought, I thought you wanted me to-"</p><p>"No." Maxwell swallowed thickly and pressed him tighter inside his arms "I thought I did, too. But I don't. I don't want you to hurt because of me. I'm sorry, I didn't want to. I don't know what came over me."</p><p>Wilson lowered his eye on the ground, the razor laying almost far end of the tent, tossed away there. He looked after it longingly, but Maxwell pulled him higher into his lap and hugged him tight, and the younger man was turned away from the bloody object on the ground. </p><p>He realized that Maxwell was shaking.</p><p>"... I just want to be with you. You can't make things undone, and neither can I. But who cares as long as I got you. I just want you."</p><p>Wilson was silent for a long time. The pain was distracting, but Maxwell must've put something on the wound to numb the pain, because it should've been much worse. It should've been so much worse. It was probably nothing compared to what he did to Maxwell.</p><p>The scientist lowered his gaze and blinked slowly.</p><p>"Are you sure?" His voice was desperate, although he fought against it.  Maxwell just dug his fingers in the man's wild hair and snuggled him close.</p><p>"We could just... Maybe we could just wait and see how things go from here?"</p><p>"Are you really sure?"</p><p>"I'm sure" Maxwell assured him in silent voice. He didn't want this, any of this, but he wanted Wilson. He was just tired. He knew Wilson must've been tired, too. He just wanted them to be able to be tired together again.</p><p>The young man in his lap whined and struggled his arms free under the fur he was wrapped inside, and instead clasped them lightly over Maxwell who flinch from the touch. Wilson buried his face on his shirt, just very carefully holding him, afraid to hold him tighter, trying to give him space, room to move, a possibility to lean away.</p><p>Maxwell was sure that if he made a slightest movement that could be read as discomfort, Wilson would pull away in an instant. He just hugged the shorter man tighter, slowly lowering his head to the man's level and looking him quietly for a minute. Wilson looked back at him, golden-brown eye, the only one left, so desperately darting from his one eye to another, silently just waiting.</p><p>Maxwell pulled one hand away and felt Wilson's grip weakening, felt him starting to pull himself away, until he cupped the man's cheek and gave him a faint smile, and planted a careful kiss on his forehead.</p><p>He was just so tired.</p><p>The tall man stroked his thumb over Wilson's cheek, and the man pressed a little bit closer to meet his touch. Maxwell hummed in approval, pulling Wilson's head closer and brushing his fingers carefully through his hair. He didn't want to think about anything for a while. He just wanted to be here, wanted to be like this for a while. The other man gave no objection, nor did Maxwell sense any discomfort in him, beside the obvious dulled down pain in his eye.</p><p>Wilson only pressed closer, a quiet whine escaping his lips as he did, and his were eyes closed, his brows drawn together in a way that was telling the older man that he wanted to keep being like this for while longer as well. It would've made sense. Wilson hadn't been nearly as touchy as he usually was, or rather as he used to be. Of course he wanted this. Maxwell gave him a weary smile and closed his own eyes as well.</p><p>"...Are you really, <em>really</em> sure, Maxwell?"</p><p>The man didn't open his eyes. Right now he just wanted to stay like this, stroke his fingers through Wilson's hair and let him rest there in his arms and not think anything. He smiled tiredly.</p><p>"You're sleep-deprived, Hig... Wilson. Let's just go to sleep, okay?" he kissed the scientist's forehead gently and Wilson just nodded, burying himself deeper into the touch.</p><p>"...Yeah, let's."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Close</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Things are going well, as well as they can. And it's not good, it's not perfect, but it is what it is.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>It was not what he had thought he'd see in the throne room. It was not what he had imagined would be waiting for him, not what would be at the end of his pain filled and torturous journey.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maxwell tried to smile at him weakly, but only managed to grimace.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was not what he had expected Maxwell to look like. He was like a shadow himself, surrounded by millions of other shadows, he looked so tired and old and sick.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Is this what you were expecting?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was not.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson dropped on his knees and let the divining rod fall from his shaking hands. Maxwell gave him a weary short chuckle "Forgive me if I don't get up."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson knew staring was impolite and rude, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the large, dark chair that Maxwell was sitting on. Somehow, even though the throne loomed over him like a monster, it seemed way too small for Maxwell. It looked uncomfortable and painful. And the shadows were slithering over the old man's arms and legs, like they were sinking into him, sewn together with his skin and flesh.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I told you that you wouldn't like what you find. I told you there was nothing in here for you. I'm sorry you had to see it yourself." the man muttered and hung his head.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson's chest was slowly filling up with freezing sadness and terror. This couldn't be it, this couldn't be what Maxwell was, where he was, this couldn't be all there was to this, this couldn't be the end.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'm sorry I've disappointed you. I really wished you'd stay away. But go on, stay a while. Keep us company." Maxwell hummed, actually managing to muster a weak smile this time. Wilson shook his head and crawled over, tightening his hands around Maxwell's legs, staring at him teary-eyed and desperate.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"...Or put the key in the box. It's your decision."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wilson hung his head and hugged the legs of his lover, fingers grasping the fabric and wetting it with the salt flowing from his eyes. He cried out of frustration and anger. Out of the heart-piercing hurt. Maxwell looked so sick and feeble, he looked like a ghost. Wilson couldn't help but sob when he thought about how healthy and powerful he always showed himself as to him. It was not fair, it was not right.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Is there anything I can do to free you?" he whispered and pushed his face on the coldness of Maxwell's body. So cold. It should've been warmer. Maxwell just hummed and shook his head. Wilson stood up, wiping his eyes and looking Maxwell's eyes with mix of determination and desperation "...What happens if I put the key in the lock?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maxwell rose his head up for a short glance at Wilson, and then lowered it back at his frail body bound to the Nightmare throne.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"This."</em>
</p><p><br/>---</p><p><br/>Maxwell was holding Wilson so tightly inside his arms that he nearly choke the man, clinging into him near the recently used touchstone. Wilson was frozen in place, like he often was, when they touched each other. Whether it was a small sweep of the fingers or leaning on his back when they where sleeping, it didn't matter, Wilson always turned to statue when he was given any kind of physical contact by Maxwell.</p><p>And Maxwell rarely gave it to him, rarely was sure enough of himself to try to attempt to touch him, but right now he couldn't stop himself from grasping the smaller man inside his arms and holding him tight. He was so scared when Wilson died, he always was.</p><p>He knew it wasn't his place to be judgmental over the lack of caution or forethought, but he would never get used to seeing the other man dying, and it was always just very, very stressful to him.</p><p>He suspected that it was not always an accident when something bad happened that lead to Wilson's death. He was not an idiot, he could connect the dots. Sometimes it was too obvious, after he had been changing clothes or in need of medical care and had to take of his shirt. Wilson would always purposefully avoid watching the scars on his chest. Whenever he wasn't wearing gloves, Wilson would hold his hand very lightly and stare somewhere in the distance.</p><p>And, sometimes, it didn't take long to be followed by something that ended up killing Wilson. The younger man always assured and promised that it wasn't intentional, always seemed genuinely quilty and sorry afterwards, but Maxwell knew it was intentional, at least in some level. It was happening a little too often to stay unnoticed.</p><p>He didn't ask, he didn't accuse. He was only holding the other man close, tight, and heaving weeping breaths on his shoulder. Wilson was stroking his back and telling him, repeatedly, that everything was fine, he was fine, nothing bad was going to happen. It was a lie, Maxwell knew, but he would take it, because he wasn't ready to hear how Wilson really thought.</p><p>He already knew that he wouldn't get what he wanted from this relationship, and if he thought about it long enough he'd always come to the same conclusion that he had never had a chance to get what he wanted. This thing between them, whatever it had been, whatever it was now, had been doomed from the very beginning. He was an idiot and fool to think he could deserve to have someone to love and have someone who loved him back.</p><p>Well, he still loved Wilson, Wilson still loved him, but it would never be what either of them really wanted.</p><p>Maxwell just wanted to forget everything, but he couldn't. It was still sometimes so hard not to flinch at Wilson's voice, it was a struggle inside his head to not push Wilson away when the younger man would sit close to him or touch him, even when he always did it so carefully and softly. Maxwell didn't want to feel that way, but he couldn't help that he did, that he still hurt.</p><p>There were only three reason that gave him enough willpower to keep himself in check.</p><p>First of all, the fact that Wilson was so plagued by the regret and guilt that he went out of his way to get himself killed in very stupid ways just for the slim change that it would end up in something that would please Maxwell.</p><p>Secondly, the fact that whatever Wilson had done to him, Maxwell deserved. He had been mean, he had been selfish, and he had no doubt in his heart that any kind of punishment was not bad enough for him. And that was why he tried to act like he was okay and nothing bad had happened to either of them. Wilson didn't deserve to suffer the way he did, not any more or less than Maxwell.</p><p>Wilson wasn't a fool, he must've known something, but he didn't ask about it either. Because the sad truth was that they were both stuck here, and they were both bad people, and nothing was going to make things different. So they decided to pretend, Wilson for Maxwell's sake, and Maxwell for Wilson's, but most of all for the sake of the survival and the fact that ultimately they had no other choice but to swallow the bitter past and move forward.</p><p>But the biggest reason that prevented him from escalating things, from letting himself be scared or angry, from damaging the thing they had going right now, was the fact that he still, after everything that had happened and despite how he felt, was very deeply, very desperately in love with Wilson.</p><p>"...I promise I won't try anything that reckless anymore, okay? I knew there were a lot of killer bees but I honestly didn't realize there were <em>that</em> many... I promise. It's okay, I'm okay now." Wilson was talking to him tenderly, but the shaky tone in his voice gave away that he wasn't all that calm himself. Maxwell just shook his head as an answer and sighed deep.</p><p>He was so tired.</p><p>Sometimes he had to wonder how someone who barely needed any sleep could be so mercilessly tired all the damn time.</p><p>"Do you, um, want to go back to camp? I can come with you if you want to. Or I will just <em>quickly</em> go fetch my stuff first, I got a nice amount of honey there-"</p><p>"No. Just come home with me, we can get your things later."</p><p>Wilson nodded and rubbed his hand over Maxwell's bony shoulders.</p><p>He didn't mean to upset Maxwell. He only meant to get them honey. He really did, this time he really just intended to help. The man sighed and tried to gently pull away from the embrace, but he was kept there tightly, the hands around him only tensing up as he was held close. Wilson didn't fight it. If the other man wanted to hold him, then he just had to stand there and be held as long as Maxwell wanted. He did scare his partner pretty badly, after all.</p><p>After a while, when Maxwell had calmed down a little bit and Wilson had assured him that he was okay, they finally returned back to their camp. It was getting late, and Wilson worked on lighting up the fire while Maxwell just went to pick up his rabbit and sat down near the tent.</p><p>That was how they spent most of the days now. Wilson would do this and that and couldn't sit still, and Maxwell would just sit somewhere in quiet and pet his rabbit. They didn't speak much nowadays. But it was better that way, Wilson thought to himself and leaned on his palm. That way it was less likely that something was going to go wrong. He wouldn't accidentally say something that would trigger Maxwell and set the healing progress back majorly, and Maxwell didn't have to talk to him and be afraid he'd say something that would make Wilson angry, even if Wilson wouldn't actually be angry at him. It didn't stop the magician for fearing it, though.</p><p>Wilson wanted to believe that Maxwell wasn't so uncomfortable around him anymore, or at least he wasn't afraid of Wilson, but the man still suspected that there were not many nice things that the older man actually wanted to say to him, so keeping quiet was better for both of them.</p><p>He got the fire going, threw some ingredients in the crockpot, and sat down to wait. He'd have to do something very nice to Maxwell to make up for upsetting him. He needed to figure out something special that would say ' I'm sorry I tried to help and it got me killed, please don't hate me', and then maybe he would punish himself later when it was less obvious. Maxwell didn't seem to like it, but Wilson didn't know what else to do. He tried his best to be every bit of helpful and useful as he could, he tried to stay out of the way and be there if he was needed, but he couldn't shake away the feeling that he wasn't doing enough.</p><p>He let his hand swipe over his eye-patch quickly. He was afraid it would never be enough.</p><p>The short man flinched when there was a sudden shadow in his vision and someone sat next to him, leaning on his side and letting out an exhausted sigh. He turned to look at Maxwell, who wasn't meeting his gaze, but instead pushed closer to him in silence. Wilson offered him a soft smile.</p><p>"Hi. Do you want something? The food isn't done yet, but it shouldn't take-"</p><p>"No, I... I just wanted to be close. If you don't mind, I mean."</p><p>There would perhaps always be the slight edge of panic when Maxwell did something and Wilson didn't realize to immediately confirm that it was okay and nothing was wrong. And perhaps it would always sting a little, but Wilson wanted to believe it was getting rarer every time. He just nodded and turned to stare at the fire.</p><p>"Yeah, it's okay. I like it when you're close." Wilson said in a soft, a little tired voice, and was sure that he felt the taller man press a little bit closer to him. It was so rare that Maxwell would try to get close to him, unless they were sleeping. He had probably really scared the man badly this time. He had messed up real bad if the man needed to be this close to him.</p><p>... Maybe it was going to be fine. One day. In a very, very distant future. The cold, inescapable thought crawled into his mind, that how sad it was that it would be very likely that one of them would die before it, that it would take too long to realistically ever get there, but he stubbornly chased the thought away. Just for a little short while, he wanted to stare at the fire and feel his partner leaning on him, and not think about everything that was wrong.</p><p>Maxwell seemed to share his sentiment, because the scientist felt his body slowly relaxing, his shoulders lowering down and chest untensing from the withheld breaths. They didn't speak, they just watched the flames, ate, and went to sleep.</p><p>It wasn't much, but it was more than Wilson dared to ask for. It was enough for him, to be allowed to be near Maxwell at all.</p><p>... Still, he couldn't sleep. He was restless, filled with too many things he needed to say and needed to do, but he never could, and so he clutched the self-made fur blanket in his hand, feeling the other man heaving in irregular breaths next to him, his one arm curled to hold Wilson lightly. The man just sighed. He considered only for a second, until he sat up, and mindful not to wake up the other man, sneaked away and lit up a lantern.</p><p>Wilson walked through the dark forest, holding his light source tightly in his grip. Maxwell would hopefully still be soundly asleep in their tent with his rabbit when he returned, and even though the scientist really wanted to just lay down and snuggle next to him, he knew this was the perfect time to go, since he really didn't seem to find a peace of mind he was seeking anyway.</p><p>After he was a good distance away from the camp, sure that he couldn't be seen or heard, he put the lantern down and waited, then nervously cleared his throat.</p><p>"Um..." he hesitated, taking in a deep encouraging breath "It's me. Are you there? I know you must be, I've heard you before."</p><p>For a moment there wasn't anything, not a sound or sight that was out of place, but soon the familiar, terrifying scent of roses carried into Wilson's nose and he froze in panic, following the instinct of recognizing the danger and needing to run, until he shook his head and breathed in and out a couple of times. He had a light, he wasn't in danger. It was fine. He waited a bit more, but nothing else seemed to be awaiting in the darkness, only the scent. Wilson bit his lip.</p><p>"...You're the one who freed me from the throne, aren't you?" the man asked, but got no answer from the night "You must be Charlie, Maxwell's uh, friend, right?"</p><p>Wilson only heard a spider, somewhere in the distance, hissing at something, and the familiar clicking of their sharp legs as they moved into the great unknown of the night.</p><p>Charlie didn't answer him.</p><p>"I don't know what reasons you had for freeing me, but... Despite the fact that it hurt, I am still grateful. I hope you know that Maxwell is much better now, he... he is healing. Slowly, but I think he is getting better. I... I don't think he understands just how horrible it was what I did. He doesn't seem to blame me, which should make me feel good and it <em>is</em> what I want, but I..." Wilson swallowed and quickly wiped away the feeling of tears in his eye "I feel like I haven't gotten what I deserve. But I suppose it's not my decision to make if he wants to forgive or forget."</p><p>It felt good to speak to someone else, even if he didn't get an answer to his venting. Wilson let out a nervous, insecure laughter "A-anyway! I just thought I'd let you know that I'm thankful, and that you don't need to worry about Maxwell, this time for real... I suppose that's all. Good night, miss Charlie, I'm glad we had this talk."</p><p>With those last words he picked up his lantern and returned to the camp. The scent of flowers lingered in the dark for a while longer, waiting for him to get safely back to his tent, until it disappeared into the night with it's owner.</p><p>Wilson wasn't sure if his words were heard or not, and most likely the thing in the dark didn't give a crap about what he had to say anyway, but it made his chest a little bit lighter, the clenching feeling letting up a bit. He didn't felt the crushing in his lungs and grip around his heart as strongly as before. Maybe he could make this a thing, he though tiredly. To talk to someone to clear his head a bit whenever it started to feel too much, too bad to handle on his own. Since he couldn't really speak to Maxwell about these things, the night monster was the next best thing, he supposed. He didn't know why, but he got the feeling that she cared about this. He wasn't sure what made him think that, but he decided to believe it anyway.</p><p>He sleepily wobbled inside the tent, carefully moved the rabbit a bit out of his way so he wouldn't crush it while he crawled back under Maxwell's arm and settled down next to him. He gave the man a fond, calm smile and swept his fingers on his cheek lightly. This was the only time when they both allowed themselves to not hold back the little touches and gestures of affection, when they were going to sleep, when they were tired and weary. And even if this was not His Maxwell anymore, he was still beloved, precious and perfect to him all the same.</p><p>Maxwell mumbled some incoherent sentence in his sleep and pulled Wilson close, and relaxed back to sleep within just seconds. He must've been tired. Wilson swept his fingers through his thinning, dark hair and smiled, trying not to feel the too soft fingertips on his back or think about the scarring over the chest that he was pulled against. He let his gaze wander on Maxwell's face for a while longer, until he shut his eye, trying to catch a little bit of sleep, too.</p><p>Maxwell still cared about him, for some unthinkable reason. And Wilson cared about Maxwell, too. He decided not to cut his arm to punish himself this time. Maxwell didn't like it, so he just had to make it up for him in some other way. Sometimes Maxwell didn't remember to check his arm and Wilson was let off the hook, but he feared that if the man remembered to take a look under the long glove that protected Wilson, he would get even more upset. Wilson didn't want that. He had done enough harm today, he didn't want to do more harm to Maxwell tomorrow. </p><p>He had a busy day ahead if he wanted to find the 'I'm sorry I messed up again, please don't hate me' gift for his partner. He really wanted to make it known that he didn't mean to upset Maxwell like that. He didn't. He tried to be good, he really tried.</p><p>Maxwell let out a sluggish sigh and snuggled his head on top of Wilson's. Wilson sighed as well and curled closer, and the rabbit between them got enough of the snuggling and hopped away to lay against Maxwell's back instead.</p><p>Wilson smiled. He would let things be like this, he would let things be how Maxwell wanted them to be, and it was enough for him. If he was even a little bit important to Maxwell, it was enough for him. He didn't need or want anything else, not anything else than the knowledge that Maxwell decided to keep him, decided to stay with him, and the reasons where Maxwell's own and Wilson didn't need to know them.</p><p>The scientist let the silence of the night swallow them whole as he pressed against the other man, letting the sleepy, dreamy thoughts swallow him as he planted a last light kiss on the neck of his sleeping partner.</p><p>Not His Maxwell anymore.</p><p>But Maxwell who was here with him anyway.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The end! Thanks for all the support, I was kind of unsure with this fic sometimes, but I'm glad people have found it worthy of reading! c:</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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